of thickest blood
by ohtruepairings
Summary: A dark!Clary fic. Clonathan (aka Clabastian) *WARNING:INCEST/VIOLENCE/MAJOR & MINOR CHARACTER DEATH* Includes & involves most characters. Background Sizzy. There was an actual summary but I hated it so just give it a shot. [EDITED & COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

**Hiii. If you don't care for ANs one way or another, just go ahead and scroll on, you won't have to hear from me again until the end. **

**Now then. Phew. Editing this was… horrific. I can't even say how many times I physically cringed, especially the earlier chapters from 2014. It was beyond embarrassing. Just. Wow. If you're a newcomer starting this now, you're luckier than you realize. I'm so happy to have fixed this. The grammar is **_**much **_**improved, and the plot holes - at least the ones I noticed - have been resolved. **

**This story has almost every warning, please take them seriously. I don't want any soft stomachs reading this one. It's really not for the kind-spirited. **

**Finally: this is somewhat of a parallel universe fic, which will make more sense once you're reading it, so it **_**relies on the source material. **_**NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT IS INTENDED. Sometimes whole passages are taken directly from the book, entire pieces of dialogue etc etc. Everything that you can point to and say Cassie wrote that, then **_**Cassie wrote that! **_**I don't intend to take credit for anything she wrote. Just making that clear for . **

**That being said, it should be fairly obvious that this fic contains **_**SPOILERS. **_**Literally for every shadowhunter chronicles book out as of now, including Lady Midnight. So proceed with caution. **

**I am just a humble fanfiction writer, with fragile feelings. Try not to be mean with your comments. (Chapters in the first half are short, sometimes extremely short. Sorry in advance.)**

* * *

"Wanna have a Netflix marathon tonight?" Jocelyn asked sweetly as Clary quietly ate her pancakes, trying not to show how much she hoped her daughter would say yes. She didn't want to have to be the bad guy on Clary's birthday. But today she was sixteen and, well, she wasn't getting out of this house if Jocelyn had to tie her to the chimney. Jocelyn knew what sixteen meant: they were coming.

Unfortunately it seemed Clary wasn't gonna make it easy. "Not really. It's my birthday, I wanna go to the club with Simon like last year."

"Absolutely not," Jocelyn knew she had spoken too quickly and with too much authority, the thought of Clary going to Pandemonium on a night like this ripping the words from her unbidden, and she tried to hastily fix the situation, "I mean I would really rather you stayed in today. I was actually going to keep you home from school. Wouldn't you like that?"

Much to Jocelyn's dismay, Clary's scowled, and she spoke through her teeth. " Why pretend you had any intention of actually considering what I wanted today? You know I want to get out of the house, are you actually going to force me to stay here all day and night?"

Jocelyn took a breath, she had prepared herself for this sort of thing. Clary's safety was more important than her feelings, and one day she would come to understand that. "Baby I know that you probably think this is unfair but it's for the best. I can't explain beyond that, but I'm telling you right now you're not leaving this house today. I'm sorry." Jocelyn braced herself for the response.

Clary stared at her, balling her hands into fists and releasing them repeatedly. "You're unbelievable," she stated. She dropped her fork and abandoned her hardly touched food, turning heel and heading up the stairs to her room. Jocelyn watched her go with a sigh.

At six o'clock that evening Clary was still in her room, bored out of her skull. She had to get out of the house, but she knew it wasn't gonna be easy. Even so, she whipped out her cell phone and texted Simon.

C: Hey. Meet me at the club in 30 min?

S: Sure. I thought you said you couldn't go?

C: Yea I still can't, so be there ok?

S: lol sure see you soon

Clary smiled despite herself. Even with her usual nature, Simon was a weakness. He knew how to make even her smile. She cherished that, even though she would never be romantically interested in Simon. They had already tried and it had felt wrong for the both of them. Shortly after Simon had found Isabelle, they were in love, and Clary had no reason not to be more than happy for them. Simon would still joke about those days, claiming Clary was too wrapped up in her dream prince to be interested in him. Even though it was a joke, there was some truth to it. Clary had been drawing her Dark Prince for about three years, always the same image of him. Simon would laugh and say she was in love with her own drawings. Sometimes Clary would blush and laugh along. "I bet one day he's gonna come for me. And then ha ha to you," she would say. Simon would roll his eyes.

Clary sighed and got up from the floor, mentally preparing to test her luck.


	2. Chapter 2

After the fight with Clary, Jocelyn found herself sitting on the living room couch staring at a blank tv screen. Knowing Clary was away in her room and likely would not be coming out until absolutely necessary, Jocelyn let the tears fall.

She cried often, but never let Clary see. She was afraid to show her own daughter any weakness. This was because of one simple fact: Clary hated her. She pretended like it wasn't obvious for the sake of her own mind, but she knew. She could tell by the way Clary would glance at her during certain moments, eyes always filled with anger or annoyance. By the way she would sometimes speak harshly, only to begrudgingly apologize if it was in front of anyone. By the way Clary would never smile when she knew Jocelyn was watching. She knew because Clary only made a false effort to hide it, as if she wanted Jocelyn to eat herself up about it. Sadly, that's exactly what she would do.

It didn't used to be this way. When Clary was a small child, she had always wanted her mom. The way a child would. She would cry for Jocelyn to hold her, to rock her to sleep, to sing to her, and all the other things mothers would do. When Clary turned six that changed. She started to want Jocelyn less and less, and by the time she was nine she avoided her mom as much as possible. Thinking back on the bright shade of green Clary's eyes used to be, Jocelyn cried harder. Now only specks of dark green were visible when looking at her. The rest of Clary's eyes were dark, almost black. And Jocelyn knew why, she could never forget that the blood of demons ran in her daughter's veins.

Not a lot, she thought, only some. The larger quantities of angel blood in Clary, however, seemed to have kept the demon blood from taking over completely. This mixture of blood in her daughter made her one of the most powerful shadowhunters alive. At the thought of the Nephilim Jocelyn sigh. Her upbringing into the world of demon hunting and her own shadowhunter blood called to her constantly. But Clary was more important than any of that. She would not lose her daughter to the Clave. Clary could never know she was a shadowhunter, a demonic one at that. She would never be accepted among them. She would never be left alone, and Jocelyn knew in her heart that if Clary had any idea of the power she possessed, she would be lost to darkness.

But it was not only the Nephilim Jocelyn hid from, it was her first husband, Valentine Morgenstern, and their son Jonathan. Jocelyn had run when she was pregnant with Clary, determined to keep her daughter from the same fate as her son. She didn't learn until later that she had failed, that the experiments on her womb had already began again, though not as drastic as with Jonathan apparently, but enough. Enough to land Jocelyn right here, tears on her cheeks because of her daughter.

As the hours dragged on the dread in Jocelyn's stomach grew substantially. She knew at some point in this day, her front door would probably come down, and a seventeen year old boy would more than likely come strolling through the hole, and slit her throat. And this boy she was expecting was her son. She could do nothing more than hope the wards, put up by a Warlock she hired, held. Some part of her still naively hoped that maybe, just maybe, they didn't know where she was. But that was a lie. They knew, they would come for Clary, and Jocelyn would fight, as she always had, to save her at any cost.

It was about seven when Jocelyn realized she hadn't heard so much as a creak in the floorboards come from upstairs.

_No no no no please don't be gone _Jocelyn thought as she ran up the stairs. Why would she assume Clary wouldn't sneak out? What had she been thinking? Throwing open Clary's door, she found her bedroom completely empty and her window open, the bed sheet flowing out. She cursed herself and fell to the floor, wondering if she would ever see her daughter again, and whether she would want to. Jocelyn doubted both.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hours earlier**

Jonathan Morgenstern was standing in front of his mother's house. Well, the woman who gave birth to him. Jocelyn Fairchild was not, and would never be, his mother, as abandonment was something that didn't go away. Jocelyn left him, ran screaming from his father without bothering to even attempt to take him with her. She had gotten pregnant for the second time, and after that Jocelyn only concerned herself with one thing: protecting his sister. Damn anyone else, of course. This was why Jonathan had assumed he'd hate his sister. She's grown up sheltered from all the dangerous things in the world, blissfully unaware that he, or his father for that matter, even existed. But, as it turned out, he didn't hate Clary. He couldn't, she was just too much like him.

He'd been watching her for years, ever since his father had finally located her and Jocelyn, Jonathan had been sent to watch them. Why he had to wait to take her didn't make sense to him. He wanted to meet his sister face-to-face, was tired of watching from afar. He had realized a long while ago that he was already obsessed with her. From the green flecks in her dark eyes to her long locks of gorgeous red hair down to her short curvy little frame.

He cherished her features because, while they obviously came from Jocelyn, they were also very different from her height and brightness. And Clary obviously shared nothing of her mother's personality. Jonathan loved that, he loved anything that set Clary apart, that made her more similar to him and maybe even to Valentine. Which was why, after all this time, he was so excited to get his sister to join the ranks, he wanted her by his side probably more than he should. And today, for whatever obscure reason his father had, was finally the day for just that.

It was growing late in the evening and Jonathan was getting impatient, he really didn't feel like going in there and getting his hands dirty just now. He hadn't thought he would have to, having heard the fight between Clary and her mom this morning. He had figured Clary would have found her way out by now.

Just as he was about to get up and attempt to get inside a sound came from Clary's window. While he watched, what appeared to be a rolled up bed sheet came tumbling out. Then a lithe figure with red flowing hair darted out and proceeded to shimmy down the sheet. He could hear her heart beating out of her chest from where he stood.

Clary landed on the ground about twenty feet from where Jonathan stood in the shadows. As soon as she hit the cement she took off like a shot in the dark. Before Jonathan had blinked twice she was gone, disappeared into the night. "Shit!" He whispered harshly to himself, and then he took off in the direction she had gone. His little sister was faster than he thought. He smirked at the thought.

Once Clary had gotten a good enough distance away from her house, she stopped running. It was only a short walk left to the club, she figured she'd cut through the alleyway. But after a few turns Clary finally realized that all along her way she'd been hearing something. Footsteps. And breathing. She could feel someone watching her. How long had she been being followed? A few minutes, or since she left her house? Most young women in a situation like this would run without hesitation, but Clary didn't feel like running, as there was no point in pretending she was afraid. Whoever was following had another thing coming if they really thought she was gonna scream like a damsel.

Normally, she'd be all for a little violent confrontation, but she didn't have time for this just now. "I know you're there. Just come out so we can get this over with," she said to the mystery person. Of all the possibilities, Clary had never even considered who it was that emerged from the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

Since she was a small child, Clary rarely ever found herself caught off guard. She almost never experienced fear. Loss never hit her as hard as it had other kids around her. Those emotions simply did not have enough of a place in her heart, and so she had never, not once, felt vulnerable.

No one was a threat to her, she typically always had the upper hand. She was strong, quick, carried with her a sense of power, of being above others. When the boy with the white hair and strikingly deep black eyes stepped out of the shadows, however, all that came tumbling down. Caught off guard was an understatement. She still didn't feel afraid, but, rather, overwhelmed. As those piercing eyes gazed at her, she felt the one thing she didn't know she was capable of feeling: vulnerability.

This boy wasn't just a boy, he was a fantasy. He was the boy, the _prince_, that Clary had been drawing for years.

She didn't understand how he could possibly be standing in front of her, a drawing come to life. She began to wonder if she was dreaming, as that was about the only thing that may actually make sense. Her prince didn't exist, he couldn't. He was just an image that lived in her mind. She had only been joking when she had told Simon he might just come for her someday, never had she imagined he actually would.

Clary knew how stupid she probably looked to him. Standing there with her mouth agape and her eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. As soon as she realized that she immediately tried to pull herself together. She refused to look like a fool in front of this gorgeous dream of a boy. And oh was he. As if he could hear her thoughts, he smirked.

Jonathan had been waiting for this moment for years. Meeting his beautiful little sister. He knew he probably looked calm, smirking at her like he knew everything she wanted to know. But he was more nervous than he could ever recall being. He didn't usually bother to care what people thought of him. He knew women were attracted to him of course, many men even, but beyond that he had never given a second thought to what impression he made on others in the short time he'd associate with them.

Being on the move constantly didn't exactly encourage relationships. He was acutely aware he wasn't actually prepared for knowing Clary, had no idea what she think of him, if she would even like him. But, then again, he didn't see why she wouldn't. He knew her, and she was just like him. Well, not quite. She'd never killed anyone, didn't yet seem to be quite as bloodthirsty, but Jonathan assumed that was because of lack of opportunity and purpose. The problem was that being so much like him also meant patience wasn't her strong suit, and neither was listening. Which was exactly what he needed her to be, and do, right now.

"Who the hell are you?" Clary asked with more force than she thought she had in her.

Jonathan's plastered smirk turned into a full blown cheeky grin, he couldn't help it. "My names Jonathan. I'm gonna need you to come with me."


	5. Chapter 5

Clary blinked. "What do you plan to do, kidnap me?" Clary asked, suddenly amused. He evidently didn't realize how tempted she would be to just accept it and go with him willingly, she was so drawn to him. She had to remind herself every few seconds that she didn't actually know him, even if she felt like she did.

Jonathan paused for only a moment before answering. "No. Of course not. I'm never gonna try to force you into anything Clary, and I wouldn't hurt you. As if I even could. I want you to come with me because I need you to, but also because you want to." He took a step closer to her. "You do, don't you?"

The questions came rushing from her lips as soon as he was done speaking. "What do you mean you need me, and what do you mean _as if you even could_?"

He sigh. "Look," he said as he stepped a little closer to her, causing her to be even more aware of every inch between the two of them. She had to will herself to focus on his answers. "I can answer those questions and all of the other ones you'll have after getting those answers, but I can't explain it all right now. All you really need to know is I know you, everything about you, and I know the things you don't even know about yourself. You're not human Clary, in fact you're better than human, and you deserve to know who you really are. Don't you want that?"

Clary felt a grin spread across her face, unable decide if he was actually trying to be serious or not. He said she was better than human. _Now wouldn't that be something_, she thought wryly. Clary knew she was different from all the other kids, of course, but that was something that simply just was. This wasn't the movies, humans were it. The best, the limit. Beyond that... No. There was no beyond that. Striking resemblance to her fantasy aside, he was obviously just some mentally impaired stranger, stalker really, who somehow knew what she might want to hear.

"Look buddy," she said, "You should probably get some help."

She started to turn from him, done playing along, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. The skin to skin contact was enough to instantly root her to the spot, something unnamable passing between them.

"Let me go," she ordered once she was confident enough in her voice.

"No. You have to give me a chance to prove it. Please just let me show you," he told her.

After a few quiet moments she finally relented, something in his voice breaking her down. "Fine. You have two minutes."

Jonathan smiled, and he reached into the pocket of his gear and pulled out a strange stick. He brought it to her forehead, and Clary found herself holding her breath.

Jonathan worked to keep his hand steady as he set to drawing the rune he and his father had searched for for years.

Valentine had known that Jocelyn had done something to Clary's Sight in order to prevent her from seeing the Shadow World. It took him years to find the spell Jocelyn's warlock had set on his daughter, and years more to find an easy and painless reverse to it. An ancient demonic rune lost in time, a rune not meant for the Angel's children. Jonathan was skeptical, but his father insisted it would work. He was less confident, and was silently praying to whatever cosmic force it was that would actually listen to him that this would work. After it was done he stood back, and Clary opened her eyes.

Only a few seconds past before Clary frowned and said, "So what exactly did you just do to me?"

Jonathan smirked and took her hand. He waited just a second to see if she'd pull away, and felt almost ridiculous relief when she didn't. He pulled her out of the alley and began their journey. Clary opened her mouth to say something, but Jonathan beat her to it. "I know this is more than two minutes but I don't know where else to go to show you the difference. Just try to trust me." Clary sigh, clearly seeing no point in refusing now, and Jonathan felt somewhat triumphant.

Before long they ended up at what looked like a normal restaurant. Clary recognized it, it was a Chinese takeout place she never bothered to step foot in. Or, at least, it had been the other day. Now the building was named _Taki's Diner _and the people inside hardly looked like people at all.

As Clary stared, a girl she assumed by the clothing was supposed to be a waitress came out from the back room holding some menus. The girl was completely blue, and her eyes didn't look like normal at all. Her whole being screamed _not human. _Before Clary could completely process that, she snuck a peek at the people the girl was walking towards. They were stark white and cold looking, and as one opened their mouth to talk to the blue girl, Clary could have sworn she caught a hint of fangs. The word _vampire _rang through her mind.

_No way_, she thought. "What the fuck?" Clary demanded out loud, and when she looked over at Jonathan for an answer, he was smiling ear to ear.


	6. Chapter 6

Clary grabbed Jonathan by the arm and began to drag him behind the building. When Clary was sure no one was around she released his arm, ignoring the tingles that remained, and faced him.

"Talk," was all Clary said, preparing to listen to the truth no matter what it was.

"I told you. I can't explain everything right here," he told her patiently.

"No. You don't get to say that. You have to tell me what you did to me. What were those ... do you even realize how- I don't even know you! And -" Clary breathed in, willing herself to calm down and stop acting like a child. It wasn't really the monsters. Maybe it was overly confident, but Clary thought she could take them anyway. She was just -

"Frustrated," Jonathan said suddenly. "You're frustrated because you don't know what's going on and you hate that because you need to be in control to be comfortable. Can't be in control without all the information, right?"

Clary only stared at him, unwilling to admit how spot on he was. That he actually might know her as well as he thought he did.

He smirked, he seemed to do that a lot. "See Clary? I know you aren't afraid. Normal, mundane, girls would have tried to run away screaming bloody murder by now. A mundane would have run away in the alley. Not you. I know how you operate, how you think. You don't feel fear because even if you don't specifically think about it, your subconscious knows how strong and fast you are. Somewhere in that beautiful head of yours you know you have nothing to fear from almost anyone. I know it better than anyone, because you and I? We're the same. That's why you trust me, even right now I can see in your eyes that you believe me."

Clary sigh. There was no way she would ever learn how to say no to this boy. Half of her mind was still thinking about how he had called her beautiful during that speech. The other half was in complete agreement with everything else he had said. He had done it, proved what he had told her before was the truth. There was nothing left now then to find out what was next.

"Fine," she relented. "What do you want me to do?"

Jonathan smiled wide, a grin that did something to Clary she didn't want to examine. She found herself smiling back, unable to help herself.

"Come with me," he responded, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Right. You said that before. I mean ... What does that mean? Where are we going and for how long? I might have to tell Simon - oh shit." Clary had totally forgotten, she was supposed to meet him at the club probably a half hour ago. She pulled out her phone, and three text messages and five missed calls greeted her. Her mom had called her four times, the rest was from Simon.

Clary looked up at Jonathan apologetically. "I should probably call him back. Just - just give me a minute okay?"

Simon picked up on the first ring. "Couldn't escape the beast?" He asked before she could speak. She could hear the club music loud in the background, he'd probably been waiting for her this whole time.

Clary sigh. "I'm sorry Simon. I-I can't come." She snuck a peak at Jonathan while she said it and he nodded in confirmation. No clubs for Clary today.

Simon blew out a disappointed breath through the phone. "It's cool. You get caught?"

"Not ... Exactly. Look I'll explain later okay? I'm really sorry. Call Isabelle maybe? Try to have fun. Love you." Then she hung up.

Jonathan understood why Clary loved Simon of course. She had grown up with Simon, he was her brother in all the ways that mattered. The heat of jealousy that flowed through Jonathan's body, though, apparently didn't get the memo. He shouldn't be jealous. He didn't want to be Clary's brother, not really, he just wanted to be close to her. And to hear her say she loved another boy, in any way, was irritating at best. He pushed all that aside as she hung up the phone and looked up at him.

"Sorry about that," she told him.

"Stop saying you're sorry," he responded on reflex. "That'll be lesson one: never apologize for anything. There's always a reason for everything you do. Remember that."

Clary appeared a bit taken aback. Jonathan wasn't surprised, he knew that Jocelyn had likely always chastised her for everything she did. Clary probably apologized fifty times a day for something she had done or said wrong in public. Saying sorry would just flow naturally by now.

"Okay," she said as a slow grin made its way across her face. Jonathan laughed.

Clary was still grinning when she said, "so you were gonna tell me where we're going? How long am I gonna be gone?"

Jonathan looked at her for a few seconds, he was pretty sure she'd be ok with this but he wasn't sure. "Clary, you're not coming back," he said.

Clary's grin dropped, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You're not going back to your old life again Clary," he explained. "If you come with me that's it. No more mundane school, living with Jocelyn. That part of your life will be over. Are you okay with that?"

Clary's excitement seemed to grow with every word, but then some realization flashed in her eyes."Simon," she said. "What about Simon?"

Jonathan frowned, this was obviously the difficult part, and he knew he needed to tread carefully. "You'll still be able to contact him sometimes if you want to, I don't know about in person honestly it depends. There are things to be done here in New York, but not right now. You may end up seeing your mother again too, but it might not be for friendly visiting, I don't think that really concerns you though."

After a few seconds, Clary shrugged. "Okay. As long as I can still talk to Simon, everything else is fine."

Jonathan smiled and said, "Good." Then he took her hand, enjoying how she automatically laced her fingers through his. A little while later, he would enjoy seeing her eyes widen when a door to a random looking home lead somewhere completely different.


	7. Chapter 7

Clary was standing in the living room of spacious multi-bedroom apartment, if it could even be called that. A long glass table sat in the center. Black pendant cut-glass lights hung from the ceiling, sending dancing shadows along the walls. Everything was very modern, from the black leather chairs to the large fireplace, framed in washed chrome. There was no fire, revealing that no one had been home in a while. She could see the tiles of a kitchen down the hall, and planned to check it out after she'd looked around more.

The other half of the room she stood in was taken up with a large television screen, a glossy black coffee table on which were scattered games and controllers, which were gathering dust, and low leather couches. A set of glass stairs led upward in a spiral. She looked at Jonathan in question, and he nodded and gestured for her to explore. Clary began to climb the perfectly clear glass, which gave the impression she was climbing and invisible staircase into the sky.

The second floor was much like the first- pale walls, black floor, a long corridor with doors opening off it. The first door led into what was clearly a master bedroom. A huge rosewood bed, hung with gauzy white curtains, took up most of the space. The windows in the room were tinted a dark blue. Clary went across the room to look out, and the sight that met her was certainly not New York.

She turned right around and went back down the stairs. Jonathan sat on the couch now, and he smiled when he saw her.

"Nice place you got here," she said, sitting down next to him.

He shrugged. "I haven't been back in a while. It's getting late. Let's just save all the questions for morning okay?"

"Fine," Clary agreed, she was tired anyway. It was probably only around eight, in New York at least, but after everything that had happened in the last two hours alone Clary thought she could probably use some sleep.

"I don't know if you checked out the closet in the master, but you shouldn't have a problem finding something to sleep in," he told her.

Ten minutes later Clary was laying in a copper, claw-footed bathtub, trying to let herself relax. But there was a problem, the most attractive boy Clary had ever laid her eyes on was just a room down the hall, and she kept slipping into a fantasy about what it would be like if he came in and got in the bath with her. Clary was a virgin, but it wasn't because of principle or anything like that. It was because she had never found someone she wanted in that way, but apparently that had changed.

Clary could just imagine what it would feel like for him to have his hands on her. To make her moan and .._.what the hell_? She had to get a grip, she barely knew him. Except that it was so easy to feel like she did. She could almost still feel that strange pull she'd felt when he'd first grabbed her arm, and she felt that want for him, for his presence and his body. She gave up on relaxing, washing her body and hair quickly and within minutes was drying off.

It was only while standing there in her towel that she realized the problem: she hadn't gone into the master closet before she'd come in here, and the master bedroom was up the glass stairs. She considered just coming out in her towel, but she wasn't sure her self control would hold up if Jonathan laid his eyes on her like that. Irritated, she put back on her dirty clothes and set out. Jonathan wasn't in the living room where he'd been, she discovered him lying on the bed in the master bedroom reading, wearing nothing but dark sweats. He looked up and, when he saw what she was wearing coupled with her wet hair, just barely suppressed a smile. She rolled her eyes, forcibly ignoring his bare chest, and opened the double doors on the far wall. She was unable to bite back the audible gasp that came from her when she saw what was inside. Not everything looked like it would fit, perhaps meant for a taller, leaner lady than herself, but much of looked like it would. The night things were near the front, and she grabbed the first thing she could - a silky thing with buttons - and quickly left the massive closet.

She went into the master bathroom, which was far nicer than the one downstairs even, and changed into the unbelievable comfortable garment.

"Where am I gonna sleep?" She asked when she came out. Jonathan grinned and patted the space right next to him. She must have had some sort of expression on her face, because he laughed and said, "Unless you prefer the guest bed downstairs. It's perfectly nice I'd say."

Clary blinked at him, feeling a challenge rise in her blood. It was perfectly clear that this was a dare, and she wasn't going to be intimidated. So she shrugged and walked over, feigning confidence as she laid down next to him. The skin of his arm just barely made contact with her shoulder, and she gritted her teeth. Sometime shortly after, though, the exhaustion took Clary and she fell asleep.

Jonathan knew exactly what he was doing. His father had told him to teach Clary and to train her yes, but he never said Jonathan couldn't have any fun. Getting Clary to fall for him the way he had fallen for her, now that would be fun. From this moment on every touch, every word, every glance, would have meaning. He would show her how much he loved her and wanted her. He'd do whatever it took. But he wouldn't admit to anything until she did. As Clary fell asleep right next to him, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. _Tomorrow_, he told himself, _tomorrow_.


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Clary became aware of after slowly coming into consciousness was that she had been sleeping for a decent amount of time longer than she usually did, probably about eleven hours. The second was her position. Her head was on Jonathan's chest, her arm draped over him, and her leg resting in between his. She didn't want to move, at all.

She began to wonder what he would do if he woke to find her all over him like this. Clary liked the thought, and she closed her eyes and pretended to go back to sleep. She even repositioned herself to a more comfortable, closer position. This might be the only chance she had to touch him without making her attraction to him overly obvious, and she wasn't going to waste it.

As she there Clary started to think about everything. It hadn't even been a full day since she had left her house and everything had changed so drastically. Here she was, laying in a grand sized bed with a strange boy who had told her she was more than a human.

She risked opening her eyes again and peered up at his face. His eyes were still closed, his face relaxed and innocent looking. His features were absolutely perfect. She couldn't find a single flaw about him. He looked like he was carved out of precious gold and then spelled to life. His lashes were long and curled, the kind every girl dreamed of having. His hair white, too white to really be called blonde, but for some reason it simply worked. It didn't look dead and lifeless like white hair did on older people, instead it complimented his perfect tone and complexion.

His body was something otherworldly, muscled but not overly muscled or bulky like a bodybuilder would be. His abs were rock hard, though, Clary could feel it, especially because the only thing between them and Clary's skin was her flimsy cotton shirt. Clary hoped he'd sleep longer, she didn't want to have get off of him.

The trust she felt, though, she didn't quite understand yet. She knew she should be more than a little skeptical of everything he said, but she wasn't. He hadn't lied to her so far, and she didn't think he was ever going to lie to her, and he obviously wasn't going to hurt her. She believed that wholeheartedly. Against all rational reasoning she suddenly knew she'd probably do anything for him, and she decided to simply accept that. Questioning and wasting time with hesitation wasn't helping anyone. From now on she was going to stop questioning the pull she felt towards him, and embrace it.

She was ready to trust him, fight with him, anything he needed her to do she would do it. It felt right, and that would be the only confirmation she needed from here on out.

Waking up to find Clary curled up on his figure had been the most pleasant thing Jonathan had experienced in quite a long while. He felt the heat of her at every point her body was touching his, and it was lovely. He had simply continued to lay there for about a half hour until he felt Clary wake. He closed his eyes, not wanting the fact that he was already awake effect what she might do when she realized her compromising position.

First, she had stiffened, and he struggled to not smile and blow it right there. Then, to his surprise she relaxed and she even put herself right on top of him. He could feel her breasts through her shirt as they rested on his lower abs. She laid her head back on his chest, right under his chin this time. Jonathan began to wonder if she knew he was awake. _No_, he thought. She didn't know how strong her senses were yet, he hadn't taught her anything. She had to think he was asleep.

He guessed that was why she was being so forward, because if he was asleep it wasn't forward at all. Tricky girl, but he knew better. He suddenly wondered how long he could lay here before he had to _wake up_. It turned out it wasn't very long.

Last night he had set an alarm to be sure they were awake by nine. Then, he had been thinking it was important she start learning today. Now, he was very annoyed with himself. He had been enjoying laying in bed with her, and it was his own fault it was over.

Clary _woke _with a start, annoyance washing all over her features for only a few seconds before she carefully schooled her face. He smiled at how cute it was, she was really going to keep up the pretense that she hadn't been awake the whole time. He had to force himself not to full on laugh.

"You set an alarm?" She asked in a voice laced with disdain.

He smiled wider. "I think that's kind of obvious isn't it?" He responded, then answered seriously, "We need to get started, there's a lot you have to hear."

Clary's annoyance faded at the prospect of finally getting some answers. She slowly lifted herself off of him, and rolled off the bed. "Fine. Five minutes," she told him, and then turned and made her way to the bathroom. Right before she shut the door she turned and ordered him to, "put on a shirt." Then she locked herself in.


	9. Chapter 9

"So what you're saying is ... I'm basically a demon?"

Jonathan and Clary were sitting on the floor across from each other in the center of one of the many rooms the apartment contained. Jonathan had been trying to find a way to say everything in the least offensive way, until he had given up and come right out with it.

"Yes. Well, I suppose technically speaking you're a half demon, half angel. You carry the blood of both, but the angel blood seems to have been losing a battle," he told her as simply as he could. Clary, though, seemed to be having a hard time accepting it. Perhaps it hadn't been best to open up with _so first you should know you're full of demon blood. _Clearly it hadn't been the best approach. Jonathan sigh.

"Look it isn't the way you're thinking... Well I mean ... It's not as bad as you're thinking."

Clary looked at him. "No no. That actually makes perfect sense."

Jonathan worked to conceal his surprise, he had assumed he would have to talk her into believing that. Once he had accepted his blood and embraced the strength and malice it had given him, he enjoyed it. He didn't have to be held down by human emotions, didn't have to be ashamed of his love for his sister, and didn't have to feel guilty for the lives he's taken or the pain he'd inflicted. He also got to take advantage of his strength and senses. The blood meant he had no rules, nothing to tie him down. It wasn't a curse, but he didn't think she'd realize that right away. He had been prepared to list out every benefit, to console her for hours. But he saw it in her eyes, she already understood.

Clary continued, perhaps feeling the need to explain herself. "It just ... I've always been cold I guess. Wasn't as emotional as other girls. Well I mean you'd know, you watched me for a while right? Sometimes Jo would look me in the eyes and search for something, and then she'd tear up," Clary paused to roll her eyes, "... She knew didn't she? About the blood. That's why she never trusted me about anything, because to her I'm just some demon?"

"She knew yeah, so probably," Jonathan admitted.

"Wow. She's even more of a bitch then I thought. Wait ... But how? I mean, people aren't just born with demon blood sometimes. How was I? ... And what about you? You said you're like me, you have the blood too?" Clary couldn't help herself, the questions were just pouring out. She forced herself to pause and let him answer some.

"Your m- Jocelyn was experimented on. She was injected with the stuff when you were in the womb. She ... escaped before you got a lot in you though. But demon blood still trumps angel blood, it's just how it is."

Clary only looked at him, communicating with her eyes that she was expecting answers to the other questions too.

"Fine. Yes I'm like you. I was tested on too, the same way. Trial one I guess. I have, I would imagine, quite a bit more of the stuff in my veins than you. The person who experimented on us, gave us these gifts, he's decided he wants you back now." Jonathan knew what Clary would ask next.

"Who am I ... Who are we to him? He did that to us for a reason right. What's the connection?"

Jonathan studied her face for a moment, trying to decide how she'd take this before he said it. "He's your father Clary, that's who I work for, that's why I'm here. Your father."


	10. Chapter 10

"My father's dead," Clary told him, "I watched him die. His name was Luke. Some people broke in when I was eleven and shot him in the head right in front of Jo and me. How could he even be alive?"

"Lucian Graymark, or Luke whatever, he wasn't your father Clary. Not your birth father anyway. My ... boss told me he died. Didn't say how. I'm sorry you had to see it, though." His voice was full of compassion, something he wasn't used to feeling. Clary clearly meant more to him than anyone else.

To his surprise, Clary rolled her eyes. "Don't be, and don't pity me. I'm not sad he died. At the time I thought I was horrible for that, but it just didn't hit me that hard. The men left and Jocelyn fell apart, screaming and crying and everything else. But I just kinda stood there, like

_oh Dad is dead._ ... I never really felt like he was my father anyway. So I guess it does make sense. He showed up when I was like eight, Jo told me he'd been in jail, which was probably a lie. Whatever. All he'd ever do is order me around and look at me like he was disappointed I existed. At the funeral I remember I had to work to pretend I was upset. I think Jo saw it through it though..."

Jonathan relaxed, it was easier if Clary wasn't sensitive to all this. "Don't bother with what she thinks of you."

"I know. So ... who is my father then? What's the story?" She asked, maybe Dad 2.0 would be a more tolerable one.

Jonathan smiled only slightly. "His names Valentine Morgenstern. He used to be very loved among the Nephilim. Now he's shunned and despised by them."

"Wait what's the Nephilim?" Clary asked.

"We're the only people who have demon and angel blood in our veins, but there are others who have been favored by angels. Those who have drank the blood of the angel Raziel, or their children, are called shadowhunters. The shadowhunters are referred to as the Nephilim. Your father and mother are both of Raziel. That's where the angel blood in you comes from, me as well. Except you have a little extra," Jonathan waved away the next question, "more experiments. Nothing you need to worry about."

"So you're saying Jo, my scatter brained artist mother, is some angel warrior? Forgive me that's a little difficult to believe," Clary.

"Yes she was, is. She never went back to the Nephilim after the experiments so that you wouldn't be raised a warrior like her." Jonathan tried to keep the anger at Jocelyn out of his voice. He'd always be bitter he was abandoned, but he was also bitter that his sister had been taken from him too. If he had been there with her, she wouldn't need Simon or anyone else, it would have always just been Jonathan and Clary. It wasn't fair that he had to live all that time without her, no one to understand him. She was his little sister, the one he loved, and they deserved to be raised together. It was Jocelyn's choice that kept them apart, and he hated her for that more than anything. But maybe it was better this way, since he wasn't sure why he was in love with Clary as opposed to loving her like a brother would. Like Simon apparently did. Maybe it was because they had been separated that he fell in love with her. He put his sidetracked thoughts on pause, and focused back on Clary.

"It's not fair that she made that choice for me. I was meant to be a warrior, I deserved it. Didn't I?" She said looking him in the eye.

"Yes. You have amazing abilities you can't even imagine yet. She shouldn't have taken you from- she shouldn't have made that choice for you." He had almost said from _him_. He couldn't imagine having to explain that one yet.

"But the Nephilim aren't everything Clary," he hurried on. "I doubt they would have accepted you anyways if they knew your true nature. They're arrogant and stubborn, misguided by corrupt leaders and they've forgotten their own mission. And above all they are prejudice. Against warlocks, werewolves, and vampires. Even against those among them. Any relation to demons spurs hatred, no matter the cause or fault. It might be better that you were never among them."

Clary nodded. "At least I'm here now. This is the part where you teach me to be that warrior right? How to fight like you can?"

Jonathan felt his lips go up at the corners, amused and excited for the both of them. "Yeah. Your training starts now."


	11. Chapter 11

Clary face planted into her mattress and she groaned into her blanket. All she ever was these days was tired. She couldn't recall a time when her muscles didn't ache with every movement. It was getting better though. It had been three weeks since Clary had began her training with Jonathan, and it was moving painstakingly along.

Jonathan had told her that shadowhunters spend years training as warriors, and he was attempting to give her enough training to beat them in a month. It had seemed impossible at first. Yes, she was strong and she could take anyone down, but her movements were _sloppy _and _inexperienced_. But he told her that she was becoming more skilled every day. She knew how to maneuver her body and use her strength as an advantage instead of an uncontrollable force. He said a few more weeks and she might be able to beat him in a fight.

She wasn't sure she believed that though, Jonathan was good. Like extremely good. Every move, he seemed to know how to counteract it before she even made it. And he was certainly just strong as her. She'd only bested him a handful of times, where he'd beaten her hundreds. It didn't matter, he said, it was all about the practice. Clary thought practice sucked.

Jonathan promised, though, that it wasn't all for nothing. Soon she'd get _the ok _and he and her mystery father would release her into the world to kick some ass. Clary smiled. She wanted to beat and punch and destroy the people she hated, was tired of trying to beat someone she actually liked. That thought erased the smile from her face.

Things with Jonathan were so complicated. It seemed that they were constantly close, but neither of them were doing anything about it. Clary still made a point of sleeping in the same bed, but it had lost its anomaly. They were extremely close when they were training as well, but while that gave her ample opportunity to touch and admire his body, Clary was a little distracted by her screaming muscles and throat to do much else but punch and kick and dodge and repeat.

Clary sigh and flipped over to look at the ceiling. She liked everything about Jonathan, he was dark and intriguing and sexy. But beyond that, he was caring in a way not many people probably ever got to see. He would burn down the world for one person if he loved them, Clary knew and she admired that more than anything. It was like he was meant for her, but he was never forthcoming about feelings. Sometimes he'd walk up and stroke her face, her hair, or touch her shoulder and then he'd just walk away or pretend he hadn't touched her at all. But it drove her crazy. She wanted him bad, more and more every day. She'd had dreams where he'd finally kissed her, admitted point blank his feelings for her, and taken her to bed in the way she wanted. But every time she'd just wake up. It made her want to scream, but she was becoming more resigned to wait.

She knew he had feelings for her, at least she was sure of that, it was only a matter of when he'd act on them. _If ever_, a traitorous voice whispered in her head. She often considered that maybe he expected her to act first, but she wasn't going to do that. It was stubborn, she knew, but he was the one who came into her life and made her fall for him. If he wanted her, all he had to do was take her. So she'd wait, possibly forever if she had to. The thought was frustrating beyond belief, and she wondered if she'd end up cracking, she didn't know.

Clary sat up from her bed and went over to her drawers, looking for a paper and pen to scribble a bit, but noticed something shiny pushed towards the back of the drawer. Surprise flooded through her at the sight of her cell phone. She hadn't given a thought to her cell phone for weeks. _Simon_. "Shit," Clary whispered to herself, and pushed the button to turn the phone on.

As soon as it lit up a million messages and calls flooded the screen. The majority was from her mother, but at least twenty were from Simon, the latest message from him over a week old. Clary cursed herself again and pressed the call option beside Simon's name. He picked up immediately. "Clary what the fuck?!" He demanded, sounding weary. Clary sigh.

"Hi Simon," she began. "I can explain everything."

A bark of a laugh sounded, and Clary grimaced. "Oh explain? How you basically ran away?! You know I freaked out when I came over the next day and you weren't there. Your mom has been a complete wreck, by the way. There are actual missing posters all over town with your face on them!" He was fuming, and his voice had risen into a shout.

"Look. I promise I'm fine. I'll tell you everything, but you have to tell Jo to stop looking for me. She needs to let me go. Take the signs down," Clary ordered, her voice strong.

"Clary. You don't get it. It's too late for all that. You've been gone for weeks. Everyone is already looking," he told her carefully.

This gave Clary pause, given that she didn't exactly have friends. The only people in her life, before Jonathan, had been Simon and her mother. There was no _everyone_. "... Who's everyone?" She asked slowly.

"Did you miss what I said about posters? The police, Clary, even in other cities. An Amber alert and everything."


	12. Chapter 12

"I have to leave," Clary said as she barged into Jonathan's bedroom.

He straightened his back and his eyes opened a little wider, but Clary began explaining before he could say anything.

"Not how you're thinking. I'm gonna come back, you can even come with me, but I have to speak with Jo," she told him.

Jonathan's surprise turned to confusion. "Why the hell would you want to go see her?" He asked, truly at a loss.

Clary rolled her eyes. "I don't want to go see her, ever again. I have to, I just found out from Simon that she's told the police and everyone else on the planet that I've been kidnapped or whatever. I have to tell her to stop hunting me down like some animal, I don't want people out there looking for me," she explained.

Jonathan visibly relaxed, his features going back to normal. "Clary, It's not a big deal. I figured when you came with me that Jocelyn would take drastic action to get you back, and I won't let her. She won't find you. No one will find you here, trust me on that."

"But that people are even looking... isn't that bad for us?" She asked. She really didn't want to have to go see Jo, she hated the woman deeply, especially now that she knew Jocelyn had lied about pretty much everything important to Clary. But the threat of being forced back into that life, taken from the boy sitting in front of her, the boy she was pretty sure she might be in love with, was very uncomfortable to say the least. She didn't want to have to deal with that worry.

Jonathan was about to come back with some empty words about how everything was fine again when he saw it in her eyes: actual worry. He was surprised that she truly didn't get it by now. No one was going to be able to control her, ever again. She was too skilled, contained too much power. That was the whole point to this, to everything. They fought and trained and worked every day to build on the strength and endurance she possessed, at this point there was no reason whatsoever she should feel vulnerable. Especially not to someone so non threatening as her mother. But here she was, visibly nervous at the thought of being _found_. Maybe he had been naive to think Clary would really get it so quickly. She'd grown up like any teenage girl after all, and she'd been so miserable that she had completely and willingly left behind everything she'd known to come with him, having hardly any knowledge at the time of what she was getting herself into. Of course she'd assume her mother still had power over her, she'd told Clary what to do and be and say her whole life. Jonathan chastised himself, of course she was worried, he needed to show her that he understood that.

He patted the space beside him on his bed, beckoning Clary to come sit down next to him. She smiled, just two little quirks at the edge of her lips, but it was still cute. Then she went over and sat next to him. She tried to hide her surprise when he pulled her down on him and laid down. It was the more direct affection than he usually showed her.

Jonathan felt Clary momentarily stiffen when he pulled her down to lay next to him. He thought back on the last few weeks, he'd been so distracted with training her he'd let his romantic plans for them fall flat. She probably had no idea how he felt about her. He had to do something about that.

"Why are you still worried about your old life catching you?" He asked her.

Clary relaxed into him and answered honestly. "Because, if she finds me she's never going to let me leave her. She'd certainly never let me see you again."

"Clary. What makes you think that she gets to decide whether or not to _let _you do anything? Don't you know by now that she doesn't control you anymore?" Clary stayed silent, so he kept speaking. "You're more powerful than her. She's the one who needs to fear you, and you don't owe her any explanations. She has no control over your life, Clary, none."

He felt her take in a breath. "So if anyone found me...?" She began.

"You'd have no trouble at all getting away. And if by some strange occurrence you can't, which won't happen, I will always find you. It's you and me," he comforted her.

She turned her head and looked up at him. His black eyes were the most mesmerizing thing about him, she could stare into them all day. To some people, they may be a sign of his darkness, his malice. But Clary only saw a representation of his depth. That he could be so threatening and dangerous, but then have the ability to hold her in his arms and comfort her. Laying there Clary knew she'd never let anyone, especially not her weak and ditzy mother, come between her and him. So what if anyone ever found her? Clary would simply kill them. Jonathan was right, she was stronger, and she'd do anything to stay by his side.


	13. Chapter 13

Clary hit the wall on the far side of the room. Hard. Jonathan must have used all his strength against her that time. She had overestimated the power of her blow, an all but fatal error. The searing pain that shot through her body as it was flung against the wall and hit the floor was a testament to that. She hated when he threw her like that, but she loved it when it was his body hitting walls. She was nearly positive no ordinary shadowhunter would be able to accomplish that sort of feat against either of them, but they threw each other around anyway.

The last time she'd collided with the barrier her arm had been fractured, but that was easily dealt with with more nifty symbols he'd draw on her. She never asked about them though, sure they were probably some shadowhunter thing she'd get a long and boring history lesson about later. But this time nothing was injured, and she instantly sprang back up and barreled toward him, dodging a punch and landing a swift kick on his lower abdomen, for which she was rewarded with a grunt.

This was how they'd spent their whole day so far, and many more days before it. Jonathan had dragged Clary out of bed, where they'd both slept for weeks now, at four each morning. Then told her, once she was in her gear, to fight him. The first time she'd only stared at him and he had simply smirked and kicked her legs out from under her. Her eyes had flown open wide and it had taken a few more pointed blows before she had finally got up off her ass and started fighting.

The first few days had been brutal. Before then they hadn't been working on any sort of direct combat, and that had been a wake up call. Now, it had been weeks, and she was almost as good as he was. He hadn't been surprised she'd picked it up so fast, or that she could hold her own. The first time he'd hit the room's barrier, he'd only smiled. Being flung through the air and slammed into a wall by your protégé must have been a pleasant thing by the way he had acted.

She'd only been able to do it about six times since then, while he'd thrown her plenty, but she was still confident about it. That was another thing he'd been gradually building: her confidence. Since the day she'd tried to go see Jocelyn, Jonathan hadn't tolerated any of Clary's tendency to bag on herself. He shut it down each time, telling her that if she really thought that she wouldn't be there. And there was nothing Clary wanted more then to be with Jonathan and to succeed in everything she was attempting.

She was inspired and her strength was progressing even further. Each time he landed a blow it only encouraged her to work harder. So they punched and kicked and beat and flung each other all day. Seven hours of beating then eat then seven more and stop. Later on in the day was when he'd just hang out with her, and they'd talk and laugh and mock each other. Mostly flirt. Then they'd both lay down and go to sleep together.

She was in love with him, and she thought he probably was too. But when they battled none of those things mattered, it was only sweat and working muscles and cracking bones and sometimes blood.

Clary liked it this way. Her soul felt at peace, as if it had wanted to be fierce and wild all her life, and had simply been kept from being so. Violence was welcomed, like a good brawl at school had been, only far greater. It provided her comfort. She imagined it probably did the same for Jonathan, which was why these days he always seemed to be smiling. He was definitely happier than he had been when she was just hitting punching bags and learning how to do round house kicks. Back then she had felt hopeless, now she felt nothing but power, and her soul was basking in the glory of it.

Jonathan pinned Clary to the floor by both her arms and she smiled up at him, breathing ragged and heavy. He smiled too as sweat dripped off his body in sheets. "You do better every day" he told her.

She smiled wider. "I know."

He smirked. "Still not as good as me, though."

She fake pouted with her bottom lip, her eyes shinning with wicked humor.

"Oh don't pout you adorable girl," he begged her mockingly while he placed his hand over his heart in pretend hurt.

She practically giggled. He was still on top of her, and it was moments like this she wanted him more than ever. As if he could hear her thoughts, his pupils dilated and his grin turned into an enraptured sort of look.

Ten agonizing seconds later he rolled off of her and stood up, offering her his hand. She took it and let him pull her into his arms. Their faces once again brought close and then he said, "Break time."

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him, heading towards the kitchen.


	14. Chapter 14

It was about two in the morning and Clary was laying on Jonathan's chest. He was fighting the urge to go to sleep like he usually would, but he couldn't do that. Not tonight. The note he had received early in the day told him he had responsibilities.

These past couple months with Clary in this beautiful apartment watching her become a warrior had been probably the best of his life. But what he knew, and what she didn't, was that it was probably going to come to a close soon. He'd find out for sure in an hour or so. Jonathan sigh.

He was sure Clary was sleeping heavily, and he began to slowly inch himself out from under her lithe form. He was agile, but her senses were as strong as his. He couldn't have her waking. Finally he got himself off the bed and held his breath for a few moments to be sure she wouldn't wake. Then he began moving, quietly sneaking out of the room and grabbing some gear from the massive closet in the hall. Then he exited the apartment through the unseen door.

He snickered, remembering Clary's constant grumbling that she didn't know where the door was. It had disappeared after they'd come in all those weeks ago, and she hadn't been paying enough attention. He shook off the thought of her, and the brisk fall air hit his skin as he stepped into it and walked into the night.

Twenty minutes later Jonathan arrived at a glamoured building. It probably looked like a warehouse, but in reality it was just a small house. Not welcoming looking at all either way you saw it. He walked forward and opened the door. He was greeted with silence, finding himself in a dark little room.

"Dad," he called. He knew his father was here, this was the address he'd been sent.

Not five moments later came Valentines voice. "Son," he said from a few rooms down, "over here."

Jonathan found his father sitting on a small couch sipping coffee. "This stuff is dreadful. If it wasn't so early I couldn't imagine ever drinking it," Valentine told him.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "You called because you wanted a report right? Why did we have to meet? I could have just written you one," he said, not bothering with pleasantries.

"It was time I saw you again. I trusted this was the only time you'd be able to escape Seraphina's eyes. But yes, how is my daughter, has she made any further progress?" He seemed genuinely interested. Valentine wasn't soft by any means, but he did seem to have a soft spot for his children. Even his adoptive son, but Jonathan didn't particularly like thinking about angel boy. He cleared the resentment from his thoughts and answered his father.

"Clary," he said her name pointedly, "is continuing to exceed expectations. As you know, everything you told me about her potential was right. She catches on very fast. She already can take me down a third of the time. She's better than any shadowhunter you've seen I'd bet on it. And her strength- we have an unbelievable weapon in her father." He had to force himself to be concise and avoid going on and on about Clary. He knew his father wouldn't like the way in which he regarded her. Siblings meant the same thing to Valentine as it did to humans and to the Clave. Jonathan's attraction to Clary wouldn't be met with encouragement.

Valentine narrowed his eyes. He didn't like his daughter's name, didn't acknowledge it, even if his son did. But at the moment it was a non-issue. For now all he said was, "Good."

Jonathan nodded, relieved in that he hadn't been made in his _unholy _affection.

"It sounds as though she is ready then," Valentine admitted. Jonathan tried to keep his face composed, even though he was disappointed. He had been right earlier, the fun times with Clary were coming to a close soon.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked.

"The final step is for Seraphina to prove her allegiance and her blood lust. There is someone I need dead, and it's going to be her job to carry it out," Valentine ordered.

Jonathan wasn't surprised it would be something extreme like this. Not that he thought it would be a problem for Clary, as long as it wasn't some child. He imagined she'd have a small problem with that, but there was no reason Valentine would want a child dead. "Who?" He asked.

"Robert Lightwood. It is imperative he dies. Maryse is growing tired of her husband, and she has asked me, finally, to be rid of him. She is on our side Jonathan, and when I take the Clave she will be my wife at last," Valentine answered.

This didn't surprise Jonathan. Valentine talked constantly about his regret toward marrying Jocelyn and not Maryse. Maryse had taken it in stride, though, married her long time friend Robert. Had two- no, three children with the man. But Maryse grieved Valentine when the Clave presumed he was dead. When he'd returned to her only recently she had been bitter, leaving one to die at an uprising, dying, and then returning to them years later couldn't inspire much trust. Apparently, though, she had come back around.

"Very well," Jonathan responded. "I'll fill Clary in. Robert will be taken care of within a few days."

Valentine nodded at him. "Good. Afterwards I expect you to bring my daughter to me."


	15. Chapter 15

Clary was only half asleep when she felt Jonathan stir underneath her. She came back to herself quickly, and almost opened her eyes before she decided not to. This had never happened before, him attempting to sneak away from her in the middle of the night. She was simply too curious what was happening to make her consciousness known.

She stayed perfectly still as he stopped breathing for a few moments and then made his way out of the room. When she heard the door shut quietly she immediately got up. She grabbed a normal tank top and yoga pants from the chair in the corner, put them on quickly, and then quietly opened the bedroom door after Jonathan.

To her relief he was still here. She watched as he threw on the last of his gear. It was fast, but she still appreciated the amount of skin she got to view while attempting to hide from even his peripheral vision. The one benefit of being trained by him was she could predict his moves, his senses, and his line of vision. She mentally thanked her lucky stars she could hold her breath for a long time.

Before long, though, he was on the move. She watched with ever growing curiosity as he went over to the living room wall and tapped it. To her amazement, the wall opened and Jonathan stepped out. Clary was dumbfounded, all that complaining about not knowing where the door was and it was right there the entire time. It probably only opened to his pointed touch.

As soon as this thought hit her, she dashed forward and barely made it through the exit before it shut completely. The cold air slapped her skin as she sprang into it. Jonathan was already almost out of sight, his back disappearing around a corner about fifteen feet away. Clary followed him into the night, not looking back.

Clary stalked Jonathan through a city she'd never seen, but she didn't bother trying to figure out where she was. Nothing mattered but keeping pace. It was tricky business trying not to lose Jonathan but also keeping a far enough distance from him that he may not sense her. She didn't have the capacity to pay attention to surroundings or check for landmarks.

Eventually Jonathan came to a stop in front of a warehouse, or maybe it wasn't a warehouse. Clary blinked, and the warehouse wasn't a warehouse anymore. She shrugged, thinking it must be a shadowhunter thing she hadn't been filled in on yet, as there seemed to be a lot of those. Now she could see a small unwelcoming house. After a few moments Jonathan made his way to the front door and stepped inside, Clary dashing after him. Just as the door shut behind him Clary mounted the steps.

"Dad," she heard Jonathan's voice say loudly. _Dad_? He never talked about his parents, hadn't given her any sort of inclination at all that he even had any parents to speak of. Why he was meeting his dad in some random neighborhood home, with the lights off no less, was completely beyond her.

"Son, over here," a voice called back to Jonathan. Clary heard footsteps, and she imagined Jonathan walking towards the voice. She decided to take a risk, and as carefully as she had ever done anything in her life, opened the door and stepped inside. No one gasped in surprise, so she knew she hadn't been noticed. She darted behind one of the walls and began to listen intently. She needed answers as to why the hell Jonathan was here, and she was more curious than ever about his mystery father. He never talked about himself, this was probably her only opportunity to learn about his family. Invitation and secrecy be damned, she was a demon, may as well act like one. She mentally sigh at the flimsy excuse.

The voice of an older man began to speak again. "This stuff is dreadful," it said, "if it wasn't so early I couldn't imagine ever drinking it." Clary could smell the coffee from here, and she agreed it was not pleasant.

Jonathan made a scoffing noise. "You called because you wanted a report right? Why did we have to meet? I could have just written you one," he sounded annoyed. It wasn't something Clary was accustomed to, as he rarely got annoyed with her, but it wasn't shocking at all. Clary knew Jonathan's temper was short, she couldn't exactly judge that trait as she possessed it too.

His father's voice sounded very controlled when he responded, as if he was also annoyed but letting it go. "It was time I saw you again. I trusted this was the only time you'd be able to escape Seraphina's eyes. But yes, how is my daughter, has she made any further progress?"

A million thoughts raced through Clary's mind at those words. _Seraphina_? _Daughter_? Jonathan had a sister named Seraphina? And what was that about escaping her eyes? The only eyes on Jonathan for the past months had been her own. She was more sure of that than anything. And then, just as it clicked in her mind, the next words came.

"Clary," Jonathan said her name in a distinct tone as if trying to convince her directly, "is continuing to exceed expectations. As you know, everything you told me about her potential was right. She catches on very fast. She already can take me down a third of the time. She's better than any shadowhunter you've seen I'd bet on it. And her strength- we have an unbelievable weapon in her father."

Clary couldn't have moved even if she had tried, she couldn't scarcely breathe. Seraphina, that man's daughter, was no random young woman. It was her. Clary was Seraphina. She knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the man talking to Jonathan was Valentine. Her father, and apparently his. Their father's only response to all that flattery about her was, "Good."

Clary knew the two men had continued to speak, but she could not focus on what they were saying anymore, couldn't think or process anything. Because for some reason that one word was the seal, the confirmation on the one thing Clary didn't know if she'd be able to survive. Jonathan was her brother. She was in love with her brother.


	16. Chapter 16

Clary didn't know how she made it out of the house without being caught, but somehow she did. She didn't know what she was supposed to do now. Her mind was in a total state of shock. The word _brother _running through her head over and over and over again. This all felt like a dream, it couldn't be real.

She was on autopilot. Without really thinking about it she started off down the street, with no direction at all. Eventually the shock started to wear off, like she was waking up. Coming out of some induced sleep, returning to herself. Something was clawing its way from the pit of her stomach up her throat. Anger.

She'd been lied to, betrayed, used. She felt cheap and dirty like she needed to take ten showers. Jonathan had come into her life and played with her feelings. He had led her on, gotten her to develop real romantic feelings for him, all the while knowing she was his sister. His full blooded sister. She wanted to both to claw his eyes out and never wanted to see him again at the same time. Mostly, though, she just wanted a distraction, something or someone to take out her anger on. With that she set off looking for alcohol, because that was what people did when everything hurt.

It didn't take Clary long before she heard the sounds of shouting and heavy music. She made her way towards the noise and ended up in front of a decent sized club. The sign next to the entrance pronounced the place to admit only adults eighteen or older, and the burly bouncer near said entrance looked ready to enforce that rule to the fullest. Too bad for him. Clary started toward the door, with the full intent of simply walking right past him. He'd be the decider of his own fate tonight.

"Excuse me little girl," the large man said as he placed himself directly in her path. "You're not old enough to go in there."

Clary looked up at him and sigh. "Can't you just let me in?"

The man laughed. "Nice try, but this isn't for kiddies, now run along before I -" The man's words were promptly cut off by Clary's hands. In less than two seconds she had jumped up and onto the man's shoulders, and placed her delicate hands on his throat, revealing only the tip of the small knife she kept bound to her wrist- something Jonathan had encouraged she do. The thought of him only increased her anger.

"I really don't have the patience for this today," she told him through her teeth. "So you have two options. The first is you let me in and cause no trouble, the second is I kill you. What'll it be?"

To Clary's amazement, the man tried to call for help. She only had a split second to decide whether or not she'd follow through with her threat. She'd never killed before, though she'd had the urge. But she'd given this guy several chances. When someone has a knife to your throat and asks you if you want to live and you basically say no, odds are you die.

Clary made her choice. She quickly glided the razor edge across the man's throat. Slashing deep, effectively cutting off whatever call he'd attempted to make. Clary jumped off his body as it crashed to the floor, his blood pooling around his inert form. Clary looked around, no one had seemed to notice. _Poor, stupid bastard_, she thought. Clary wiped her knife on his jacket and slid it back into its place on her wrist. Then she turned from him and walked inside.


	17. Chapter 17

As soon as Jonathan stepped back into the apartment, he knew immediately. No matter how hard he strained to hear it, the sound of Clary's heartbeat didn't come from any room in the space. He went to check anyway. Just as he already knew, she wasn't in bed, or anywhere else. He was dumbfounded.

There was only one exit to this place, and only he could open it. The only way Clary could have gotten out was if she had followed him out. He realized he hadn't been careful enough earlier, hadn't been sure she was sleeping, hadn't been listening for a tail. He assumed she'd been here, safe the whole time, and she hadn't been. She'd snuck out right after him, and if she had heard- He cursed out loud. She knew.

He slammed his fist into the countertop nearest him, breaking off some piece of it. He had to calm himself down. This wouldn't help right now. What he had to do was find Clary and convince her to see how he saw, to prove to her that there was nothing wrong with these feelings they shared. There was no other option. He couldn't lose her, not after everything. He turned around and went right back out into the city he'd just come from.

Clary had totally forgotten what she was wearing. College kids left and right were giving her looks. She had nothing to blend in with, she wasn't even wearing shoes. Her yoga pants, tank top and lack of makeup weren't going to go unnoticed in here. She came looking for a distraction, but the only distracting thing here would be her if she didn't do something about her state.

She shot straight for the bathroom. A young lesbian couple were making out on the sink when she entered, and they both were dressed to impress. Clary didn't see any other option. She went right over to them and peeled one of the other. The one she was holding was blonde, and the one with black hair was looking at her like she was satan. _Well, close enough, _she thought to herself.

"I'm gonna need you two to give me your clothes," she said simply. The one who was gaping at her laughed. "What are you twelve? Why the fuck are you even here? How about give me back my girlfriend and leave," she told Clary with ample self satisfaction. Clary smiled back with her teeth and grabbed Blondie's skull, pounding it into the sink and knocking the girl out.

Black Hair screamed for about a third of a second before Clary slammed her fist into the girl's face. She laid both unconscious girls on the floor and began to strip pieces of their outfits off them. She ended up wearing Black Hair's purple blouse and push up bra, complete with Blondie's jean skirt and heels. After digging around in one of their purses she found some deep red lipstick and mascara.

Clary didn't much like makeup, but she applied it with ease. She shrugged, guessing some things were just in the DNA. She left her measly scraps of clothes for the other girls when they woke up. Then she exited the bathroom.

She headed straight to the bar on the far side of the large space, having to maneuver through tons of partygoers along the way. She was pretty sure at least four dudes touched her ass. When she finally made it to the table the bartender came right over. "What'll it be sweetheart?" He asked. She rolled her eyes. Clary looked to the side, catching sight of a very drunk looking twenty-something year old about five seats away. He appeared to be taking repeated shots of some alcohol. That was good enough for Clary.

"I'll have whatever he's having," she said as nodded toward the young man.

"ID?" He asked, smirking.

Clary's small smile vanished, turning back into the look of annoyance she was sure she had been sporting all night. "Give me your hand," was Clary's response.

Bartender hesitated, but eventually curiosity won out. He put his hand in hers, yelping when she squeezed, hard.

"Shut up," she ordered, "I don't have an ID. And I'm not in the mood for bull shit. If you don't start supplying me with whatever that miserable fucker over there is having, I will break every bone in your body. And then I will slit your throat with this knife," she claimed, jamming the small tip protruding from her wrist tie into his palm.

He was looking at her in fearful awe. He swallowed. "Very well," he said.

She released his hand, glad that not everyone was as stupid as the dead guard outside. Not moments later came the alcohol. She downed the first shot instantly, ordering Bartender to simply, "Leave the bottle." He complied easily, and scurried away. She tried to lose herself in drunken bliss.

It didn't work. She must have downed fifteen shots of the burning liquid, more than she'd ever consumed at one time, and she was still totally sober. In the past when this was happen she would be able to explain it away to herself. Excuses like _I just didn't get enough_ or _maybe I am a little buzzed _or _I guess I just have a higher tolerance_. But this, this was ridiculous.

She should be on the floor by now. Close to passing out at the least, but she was somehow sure she could drink five more bottles of the stuff and still be perfectly fine. She was dumbfounded, and beyond irritated. She bet Jonathan would be able to explain this away to her with his demon facts 101 but he wasn't here right now, and she didn't want him to be.

Her brother. This stuff was supposed to make that pain go away, wasn't it? She hated that she could she still see his perfect face clearly in her mind, that she couldn't she just leave her feelings at the door for a while like everyone else.

She assumed this was when any normal girl would cry, but she still couldn't. All she could feel was burning rage. At Jonathan, at her father, at the bottle of alcohol in her hand. All of it. She wanted to burn the world down for this, the last thing she could imagine doing was crying. She sigh and downed another shot.


	18. Chapter 18

Tracking Clary was easier for Jonathan than anything. He would have been able to find her anywhere. Listening intently for her specific heartbeat and breathing patterns, it only took him about an hour to find her in a city of what must have been thousands. When he really focused, his senses amazed even him.

He ended up in front of a club. The music and hollering from the inside made it obvious the place was filled with partygoers, but it was the dead guard at the entrance that confirmed Clary's presence. Jonathan was only slightly surprised. He'd known Clary could be vicious and savage if given the motivation, but he didn't know she'd be so unrepentant.

The deep gash at the man's throat was ugly, and his position suggested she had simply killed him and left him there. On any other night he'd be proud, but right now it didn't matter. He stepped around the body and entered the club_,_ instantly being swarmed by sweaty, dancing bodies.

"Damn. How many of those are you gonna have?"

Clary turned her head towards the voice, and met the eyes of the drunk twenty something she'd noticed earlier. He was staring at her, clearly waiting for a response to his question. Clary rolled her eyes. "As many as it takes," she told him, and emptied her glass once again.

He raised his eyebrows. "Bad night?" He asked.

The last thing in the world that Clary wanted was to chit chat with some dude at a bar. Especially because he clearly wasn't as wasted as Clary had initially assumed. She ignored him.

"Come on, I'm curious. No reason a beautiful girl like yourself should be here drinking alone." If he was trying to flatter her, it wasn't working. Clary was getting tired of his voice. The man got up from his seat and came to sit at the chair next to hers. "Bet I can cheer you up," he told her. She clenched her teeth.

"You're a little old for me," she said, "and I'm not interested."

"I'm only twenty three. Come on girl, you're so hot. We could enjoy each other's company," he finished, putting his hand on her thigh.

Clary tensed. She began to debate the consequences vs. the benefits of shoving her knife into his skull right there, but she gained control of herself. "I'm sixteen," she said.

He didn't move his hand. "You don't look sixteen, but it doesn't matter. Usually I'd be above that kinda thing, but I'm having a bad night too," he explained slowly, his face way too close to hers for comfort.

But just as she was about to spit in his face, she caught someone in her peripheral vision. She didn't even have to move her head to know it was Jonathan. The gleam of silver hair and the shadow of a weapon at his belt was enough.

She didn't know what came over her, but suddenly she just wanted to hurt him. Or maybe she did it to show him he wasn't the only one she could be attracted to. Whatever the reason was, she moved her face forward only a couple inches before catching Twenty Three's lips with hers.

_Wrong_. That's the only feeling Clary could register. The kiss was nothing, even more so than it had been kissing Simon during their short relationship. Clary cared about Simon, but this was emptiness. If there were a color for this kiss, it'd be drab and gray.

Twenty Three, though, seemed to enjoy himself. His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her closer to his body. Clary tried to force herself to enjoy it, she even opened her mouth and let him explore. She wanted to feel something at this point, she wanted to know that someone besides her brother could turn her on. He seemed about ready to pick her up and take her to a back room. Unfortunately for him, he'd never get that chance. The kiss lasted only about eight seconds before his lips were ripped away from hers, and she was glaring up into Jonathan's face.

"Dude what the hell?!" Twenty Three exclaimed, his neck was being held in Jonathan's grip.

In response, Jonathan twisted his hand, and the older man's neck snapped. Jonathan laid Twenty Three's head down on the counter, making it appear as though he were drunk and not dead.

Clary's eyes filled with malice. "You had no right to kill him, he was my toy not yours," her voice was pure venom.

Jonathan glared back. "What Clary, you were just gonna let some twenty something college dropout take your pants off. You'd have no problem at all with that?" His voice was low as he accused her.

"Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't, it's none of your concern," she told him firmly.

"Let me make something clear to you: you are mine. Everything you do is my concern. Do you understand that?" His eyes were such a deep black now it was almost distracting, and it revealed just how angry he actually was. But his words sparked her own rage.

"Oh yeah, I'm yours alright. Your weapon, your tool, your _sister_. Doesn't mean you get to control who I do and don't sleep with." Bitterness dripped off of every word.

For a moment he only looked at her, black fire in his eyes. Then he grabbed both her wrists and pulled her toward him. She didn't bother to fight, there was really no point. "The only person you're going to be sleeping with is me," he whispered into her ear. It sounded like a growl, the kind you hear before the dog pounces and starts biting.

Clary ripped her wrists away and turned from him, grabbing one of the empty glass bottles she'd drained from the counter, and chucked it at his face. Of course he ducked, and it ended up shattering against the far wall when it made contact. It was all downhill from there. The music in the place stopped playing, and most of the crowd turned to stare at the two siblings while they glared at each other.

Neither even noticed or cared that all eyes were on them. Clary made the first move. She grabbed the stool she had been sitting on, sending it flying towards his form. He darted away, toward one of the club tables. She followed, prepared to attack him directly. Somehow she lost the upper hand, and when her body collided with his he grabbed her and sent her flying toward the bar's array of alcoholic bottles.

She crashed into the glass hard, liquid and jagged pieces littered the ground. She probably had about seventeen shards of glass in the skin of her arms alone, any normal girl would need stitches. But Clary only stood up, ignoring the blood she felt trickling off her elbow and raced towards Jonathan again. Halfway to him she plucked a butter knife speedily off one of the tables and flung it towards him, and it buried itself in his leg.

He made no cry of pain, of course not. Clary only slightly heard the gasps, barely made note of the people screaming and scattering toward the exits left and right. The only thing that mattered to them both in this moment was hurting the other.

In the next eight minutes, every chair, knife, or piece of glass in the place was used as a weapon. Clary was sure she had at least a few broken bones, blood was soaking Jonathan's gear. The club was nearly empty. Finally Jonathan gained the upper hand, and he tackled her to the ground. He restrained her every limb. She struggled for only a few minutes before she let out a long sigh, and accepted defeat. Then she only looked at him, refusing to say a word.

Clary refused to think about the way she felt right there, being held down by his body, his face so close to hers. It'd be oh so easy for him to just lean down and kiss her. Until she remembered she wasn't supposed to want that anymore, and everything that had just happened. But still she stayed perfectly still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her discomfort. He didn't look satisfied, only frustrated and angry.

"Are you done?" he asked, she could feel the whisper of his lips moving he was so close. She only stared. "I said, are you done?" he asked again, more pointedly. This time she nodded, if only in the hopes that he'd finally get off of her, so that she could begin thinking straight again. "Good." He said, and then to her utter astonishment, he closed the small gap between their lips and kissed her.

Clary gasped. Her entire body came alive, lit on fire. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt. After so long pining after him, building tension, it was hopeless to resist it. She parted her lips underneath his, and he wasted no time at all. His tongue grazed her own, and she couldn't help herself. She was kissing him back, passionately. For the moment she had forgotten just about everything. It all slipped away. Her anger, her pride, her sense of resentment and distrust. She lost herself in him, in the feel of his lips sliding against hers, sometimes biting gently and causing her to moan. She couldn't imagine any better feeling.

But all too soon it ended, and the world came crashing back down. It was as if she had been suspended in time, and was now returning to the present. It all hit her at once, what she had just done. She knew who Jonathan was and she'd made out with him anyway. There was no excuse for that kind of thing in any book. And yet, she didn't have a regret in the world.


	19. Chapter 19

Clary groaned and used her remaining strength to push her brother off of her. He didn't bother to resist, he was still processing his own actions. He didn't know what had come over him, didn't understand, but he wasn't sorry he did it. Especially because she had kissed him back.

But now she was clearly angry again. He watched her as she stood up and made her way over to one of the lucky tables that was still standing. She was limping. Whatever shoes she'd been wearing were gone, and what remained of the pretty outfit she'd probably stolen looked like it had been dipped in paint.

He hated that he'd caused her pain, but they had always fought dirty. Clary wasn't a little girl, she didn't deserve to be treated differently than anyone else who would come at him. She'd of thrown him into the glass given the chance too. But he'd likely have fared better, given he was wearing gear. It wasn't in great shape, but at least it protected him some. Whereas Jonathan could see bleeding, ugly gashes all over Clary's arms and legs.

A particularly big piece of glass was caught in her arm, and it looked like it may have been bone deep. He grimaced. Clary thought she was invincible right now, and she nearly was, but she wouldn't enjoy bleeding out. She would survive, of course, but it wouldn't leave her in such great shape.

Her adrenaline was probably fading, and judging by the limping she was probably beginning to feel her wounds. As if on cue, she sat down and let out a hiss. She glanced down at the piece of glass he'd noticed earlier and touched it. She hissed in pain again. He stood up and walked over to her, getting out his stele.

"Don't," said Clary. "I don't want your help. I'll get it out by myself."

"Clary come on, I know you're mad but don't be stupid," he told her, and then he grabbed the tip of the glass.

Clary grew still, preparing herself. Then he pulled and she let out a small scream before gaining control and cutting herself off. Jonathan dropped the bloody culprit to the floor, and put his stele to her arm. As he drew Clary began to find the other, much less serious, glass attachments and pick them out. There weren't many actually in her skin, but she was cut up everywhere.

For five minutes she let him fix her up, clearing feeling very irritated she wasn't capable of fixing herself yet. Finally he finished, and started drawing on his own arm. Clary stood up and walked back over the very broken bar. Twenty Three's lifeless body was still face down on it, and she pushed it away. Then she sat down.

After a few minutes Jonathan came over after her, wishing he could put off this conversation. She obviously didn't want to hear anything he had to say, didn't want his explanations, didn't want him to kiss her again..

"Just go," she told him before he could say anything.

He paused for only a second. "Where?" he decided to ask.

"Anywhere," she said. "Anywhere but here. Go back your apartment or something, just leave and leave me alone."

"I'm not going anywhere without you," he told her.

"Yeah, well, I'm not going with you."

"Where will you go then? You know the mundane police have probably been tipped off by now, you're just going to wait here to surrender?" he prodded.

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Let them come. What're they gonna do shoot me? Why does it even matter?"

His hand flew forward almost unbidden and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Don't ever say that again," he ordered, "insinuating that I wouldn't care if you died isn't acceptable. You know better than that."

She jerked her face away. "Actually I don't. The entire time I've known you all you've done is lie to me, how the actual fuck did you think you'd get away with-" she cut herself off, then continued. "How am I supposed to believe you care about my life at all?" she demanded.

He looked her in the eyes for a moment. "Clary I don't know what it is that you think, but I wasn't trying to mislead you. I didn't want to lie to you."

"I don't believe you. I think you used me and you messed with my head and I think you enjoyed yourself," she told him.

He blinked in shock. "You think- I was messing with you? You think I was playing some game and laughing about it behind your back? That's what you think?"

She scoffed, then stood up and headed toward the club's back exit.

The cold night welcomed Clary, and she walked through the back alley for a while before she heard Jonathan's footsteps running to catch up with her. Before she could turn he grabbed her and spun her towards him. He was staring right at her, heart in his eyes. It caught her off guard, and protests died on her lips.

"Clary. I can't let you go on believing that." He sounded desperate.

She stared at him, her heart starting to fill with unwanted hope that things weren't how she knew they were.. "What am I supposed to believe then?" She asked.

"You're supposed to believe me when I tell you that everything I did- the only reason I didn't tell you the truth was that I thought it'd change the way you thought of me, I didn't want you to see me the way you do right now," he admitted.

"What does that mean? You don't want me to see you as what? My brother? You are my brother, but you spent the past months basically seducing me. Which kinda makes zero sense, unless you were doing it to fuck with my head. Which you say you weren't, so forgive me but I just don't understand." She took a breath.

"You're right Clary you don't understand. You don't understand that it doesn't have to be that way. Me being your brother doesn't have to get in the way," he told her seriously.

Her eyes widened. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it wasn't that. It took her a few moments before she could speak. "Are you suggesting that you can be my brother and still be- what? My lover?" She could hardly believe she'd just said those words.

He looked directly in her eyes. "Yes. If you wanted to, yes."

She was shocked. "How could you possibly justify that?" The question sounded more desperate than it had in her head. But she couldn't deny that she really wanted an answer, and more than anything she wanted the answer to actually make sense. She wanted to be with him, and being his sister was tearing her apart.

"Clary, we aren't humans. Mundanes or even Nephilim, we aren't humans. We're demons," he told her.

She shook her head slightly to clear it. "Right I- I know that. What does that have to do with this?"

"Demons don't have to play by human rules Clary. Humans are repulsed by their own blood, we're drawn to it. You and me, we're two of a kind, just us. There's no one that we're meant for but each other. Can't you see that?" he implored.

Clary's heart ached to just accept his words. Everything in her told her he was right. They belonged together, in every way. He didn't have to wear an off-limits sign just because he was her brother. Like he'd said, that was a human thing. And it was true, they weren't humans.

He was searching her features for any reaction to his words. His eyes were begging for something, anything. She could see the hope in them. He loved her just as much as she loved him, in all the same ways.

"So you and me- we aren't ... wrong?" she asked carefully.

"We're anything but wrong. You're my sister, but you're also everything I want. You're everything to me, always have been," his voice was pure sincerity.

Clary let that sink in, what a night this had been. She could barely believe she had laid down in bed with him only a handful of hours ago. It all felt like lifetimes. Everything that had happened in just this night alone should have been enough. The pain she had went through, emotionally and physically, in just this night alone, all because she thought she couldn't have him.

And now he was telling her she could. That they belonged to only each other, and in that moment she accepted it. It was true. He was who she wanted, who she'd do anything for. From a demon standpoint, which was apparently her only rightful standpoint, him being her brother was actually a bonus. It could simply mean for them to be closer. Only a stronger bond. Clary wanted that, and she'd have it. She'd have him.

Jonathan must have seen it in her eyes when she decided, when she finally accepted that she wanted him. She finally understood, useless mundane rules didn't have to hold them back. She hadn't even spoken yet, and a smile crossed his features.

Clary slammed Jonathan into the alley brick wall, and crashed her lips on to his. The kiss was full of need, their bodies pressed flush against each other. It was deep and desperate, like they couldn't quite get enough. Both were in overdrive, hearts beating faster and faster. They lost track of time. But when it ended, it felt like too soon to them both.

Jonathan managed to speak first. "I'll take that as you believing me?" He asked with a boyish smile.

Clary laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, I believe you." She smiled.

He laced his hand in hers. "Good. Now come on, I think you need some new clothes," he said with a smile of his own.

Clary pouted her bottom lip. "These were my new clothes," she told him.

"Yeah, I'm sure whoever you stole them from would agree with that," he said, laughing, then he pulled her along toward the apartment.


	20. Chapter 20

Clary didn't remember falling asleep, didn't even remember getting back to the apartment. But she must have made it back somehow, because she was laying comfortably in her bed on Jonathan's chest. She could tell by the steadiness of his breathing that he was still asleep.

Glancing down at herself she could see she was still in the same tattered, bloody, stolen clothes she'd worn at the club. She was sick of seeing them, hoped she could get some clothes and make it to the bathroom without waking him, and she tried to get out of the bed with as little movement as possible.

Moving slowly out of the bed, she felt him shift beneath her and she held her breath. When she felt him relax she moved again, with slow progress. She was almost out of the bed when she felt a hand trap her wrist. She jumped and looked at Jonathan, who was looking at her with amusement, and something else.

Before she knew it she was completely back in the bed again, her body laying on top of his. She noticed how every part of her body matched his and she liked it a lot.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I was gonna change," she admitted. She could hear her own voice coming out in little breaths, and hated that he could make her so nervous.

"Well. If you have a problem with those clothes ..." He left his sentence unfinished. She felt his lips on her ear, his warm breath making her seize up. Clary realized very quickly that this wasn't a dream this time. Her heart started beating faster than it ever had. She could feel Jonathan's lips leaving a trail of kisses down her neck to the cleavage only a shirt as torn as hers would reveal. She reached for him, bringing his face back up to hers.

"Kiss me first," she said breathlessly. Jonathan smiled and lowered his lips to hers. It was not a gentle kiss. She loved the way he kissed her with a passion, the way he didn't fear her breaking. The kiss was wild. Gaining confidence, she stood up and lifted her shirt off.

"You're beautiful," he said, and then kissed her again. He lowered her onto the mattress, and took off her bra.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this," he told her. "I just want you to be sure. You can always back out, I'll wait for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well I won't," she said.

It was a very long night, and he allowed Clary to dominate him completely. He hadn't thought he'd enjoy that quite so much, but he found her aggressiveness unbearably sexy. At one point he found himself bound, helpless to her whims and unable to touch her back. He wouldn't make a habit of being submissive by any means, but it had been mind blowing. Eventually though, even Clary's stamina had to give out, and she collapsed off of him. Jonathan was nearly in disbelief afterwards. He knew he'd initiated it, but he really hadn't had any idea what to expect. If he hadn't been watching her for years, he would have doubted she was actually a virgin. Besides the pain she'd clearly felt in the beginning, there were no other signs. It was made even better likely because she had been the first girl he'd ever actually cared about. She wasn't a meaningless hook up, which was what Jonathan was used to, she was Clary, and he was ridiculously in love with her. He was more sure than ever that there was no one in the world for them but each other.


	21. Chapter 21

It was evening when Clary woke, she knew because the sun was almost completely set. Jonathan was laying underneath her, but his eyes were wide open. He was looking at her with an enraptured gaze, like she was the most beautiful thing in the universe. She blushed scarlet when she remembered everything she'd subjected him to. She couldn't recall blushing to be one of her traits, but there it was. He only smiled.

"I love you," he told her easily.

Most girls probably would have shown shock, or maybe hesitated a little. Clary didn't. She smiled wide. "I love you too," she told him.

"That was the best night of my life you know," he told her matter-of-factly.

She bit her lip to hold back a chuckle, and tried not to look too self satisfied.

"I'm starting to worry we're becoming a little nocturnal though," he admitted with a half smile.

She smirked. "It was two days we slept through, I think we could get back on schedule."

"Just for today let's not be on schedule," he replied lazily. Clary found it adorable.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked playfully.

With that he rolled away from her and got out of bed, leaving his full self out in the open. Clary enjoyed the view. Then he reached out and pulled her to him, picked her up, and started walking her to the bathroom. "We are going to take a nice long shower," he declared.

Clary laughed and made no protest as he set her easily under the shower head, joined her, and turned on the water. He seemed to have gotten the idea that it was his turn to dominate her, and she appreciated it immensely.

Almost an hour later they came out fresh and very very satisfied. Clary wished everything wouldn't have taken so long to come to light. If she had been this happy a month ago, and had more time to enjoy Jonathan this way, life would have been better. But she was happy now. Deciding to be with him had proved to be the best decision she had ever made. He was all that mattered. With him she could be sexy, dark, and powerful. It was everything she ever wanted.

Once they were both fully clothed, which was bittersweet, Jonathan made her breakfast/dinner. It suddenly struck her that she didn't remember the last time she had eaten. She dug into the pancakes greedily, and so did he, both wishing this could be how it was all the time.

The pair spent the rest of the day relaxing together and talking. Clary had never been one for girly things, but this felt nice. She curled up against her brother on the couch while they watched horror flicks and laughed at the effects.

Eventually though it got to be late, or early depending on how it was seen, and the two decided then would be a good time to start getting themselves back on schedule. They went to sleep together, no sex, just the way they used to. Falling asleep was the easiest thing in the world


	22. Chapter 22

"I know you're awake," Jonathan mumbled to Clary when he felt the telltale change in her breathing.

Clary grimaced but didn't open her eyes. "I don't want to be awake," she told him.

She could almost feel him smirking. "Why?" he asked, like it wasn't obvious.

"Because," she sigh, "once I'm awake this ends."

His smile diminished. "What do you mean by that?"

She opened her green-black eyes and gazed up at him. "I mean, the relaxing, the sex, the chill we've had these past few days. I'm awake and it's back to business, or whatever your dad - er our dad has planned."

He only frowned, not being able to deny any of that and wishing he could. "Unfortunately yes," he admitted.

"See?" she said. "Just let me lay here for a few more minutes."

A small smile made its way on to his features. "Alright Clary. But it's not like we can't ever have us time. We'll find a way to make sure we get to have days like yesterday sometimes, okay?" He told her.

Her lips curved up at one corner. "Not exactly like yesterday though," she countered.

"Probably not no," he said smiling in a bittersweet way. "I think the days of hot shower sex are going to be pretty limited- especially when I have to bring you to father."

She glanced at him, her eyes widening fractionally. "You mean he won't...?"

"Approve of this? No. He's Nephilim Clary. Mortal. Human. He may be our father but he's not like us. He wouldn't understand, he'd be sick actually," he admitted to her.

She was shocked, and rage was clawing its way up her throat. "I kind of hate him now," she told him, trying to sound controlled.

"I kind of hate him too," he said plainly.

He could tell that surprised her. "But if you hate him then why...?"

"Why didn't I just leave? Or kill him?" he asked.

She nodded, and he took a deep breath. "Because. He may not understand me, and he may be spiteful and judgmental and self righteous, but he's still my father. He's all I ever had," he finished.

She nodded, clearly that was something she could understand. Then she frowned. "So when we - all of us - meet up, we'll have to start hiding?" she asked.

His grimaced. "Yes. But it won't change how we feel, we'll still have time for affection sometimes."

She sigh. "Alright. Can we at least take a shower before starting on today's agenda?" she asked with a seductive smile.

He really wanted to say yes, but he knew better. "I don't think that'd be a good idea. We really do have an agenda, and I think I'd find myself a little too preoccupied if I went in there with you."

She fake pouted. "Fine. But if you change your mind, I'll leave the door unlocked."

He smiled at her, he really did wish he could just follow her, but he had found his self control, and watched her walk inside. He, of course, didn't hear the door lock. Damn she could drive him crazy.

Despite having said she'd give him the chance to change his mind, Clary knew he wouldn't. He was usually very disciplined, and stuck to what he said. So she took her shower quickly. But as she was putting on her gear, something occurred to her. She finished dressing and opened the bathroom door. Jonathan was there in full gear, looking ready to get on schedule. But she had to ask.

"Hey um ... we didn't really use protection you know," she said carefully.

Whatever look he had on his face dropped, and he seemed to become uncomfortable. Not nervous, as if he was actually worried about her being pregnant, but like he didn't want to say something he knew he had to say. Clary became still, that was the look people wore when they had to deliver a blow. She couldn't imagine what that could be, but by his face it was coming nonetheless.

"Clary ... You um, you -can't," he said in a not so graceful way.

She got the message. "I can't get pregnant," she stated. It wasn't a question.

He looked at her. "No."

Clary didn't even flinch. "Okay," she said. She was actually relieved. Children weren't ever something she wanted. Motherhood wasn't something she saw herself taking part in. In a way this was luck, she could have unprotected sex with him all the time, and no problems would come about. No worries about a kid to be discovered, nothing. But, she was also curious. "Can I ask why?"

"The demon blood. Everything comes down to that. The demon blood prevents anything life giving, it only keeps you alive. I don't think I've told you, but you're- we're immortal Clary. _Immortal as the demon whose blood runs within us, _as father put it. That kind of thing doesn't really allow for pregnancy," he told her.

She nodded. That made perfect sense, and she was also very intrigued. Immortality. They'd never die, would be young, powerful and in love forever. She smiled wide. "Things just keep getting better and better," she said.

His smirk returned, and he went to kiss her. It was soft, simple, and lasted only a few seconds. Probably the closest thing they'd ever get to a chaste kiss. "I'm glad you're happy, I didn't know how'd you react. I should have known you'd see things the way I do."

She gazed at him. "Of course I do," she said.

He clasped his hands together. "Alright. We need to get started."


	23. Chapter 23

Clary's head hurt, and not in the way she was used to. Jonathan had spent the last two days, every waking minute, on shadowhunter 101. Apparently she'd mastered the physical aspects of being a Nephilim. Well she was better than them, but she needed to understand them as well.

He had taught her all the basics, all the vocabulary that sounded like it was being pronounced wrong, all the names she'd been curious about, and rule after rule after rule held by the Clave. Then he had went on to teach her about every demon known to exist, the ways in which shadowhunters had been taught to kill them, and what their strengths and weaknesses were. He had went over every specific rune and its origin. He reviewed shadowhunter history, who was most remembered among them.

It was all so much information Clary felt like vomiting. After his lessons he would quiz her extensively, during which times she thanked the stars for her almost unnatural memory. Today, after the afternoon lesson, he had handed her several books. The one on top was titled _The Shadowhunter Codex_. She sigh heavily, even before he had given her the direction to go to her room and read all of them. That was about nine hours ago.

Now she was nearly done and was sporting a massive headache. But she was pretty sure she had most of the information down. She'd always been a quick learner. After closing the last book, which may as well have been titled _Dull and Boring_ she got up from the bed and walked out into the hall. She was hungry after eating basically nothing the whole day, and was headed toward the kitchen when Jonathan stepped in her path.

"All finished?" he asked.

"Yes, is it a problem if I eat now?" her question was rhetorical, and full of attitude, but he answered anyway.

"Actually it is. I need to test you first," he told her.

She glared at him, not eating didn't do nice things for her personality. "It can't wait?" she asked angrily.

He smirked. "No." Then he led her over to a table which had a thick packet and a pencil on it.

She stared at him, fire lighting her eyes. "An actual test? This like four inches thick, it'll take me hours to do this!" she yelled.

He looked like he was trying very hard not to smile. "I know, but I have to be sure you know everything. Knowing these things is going to make everything a lot easier in the future, trust me. The whole point of these past few days was to make sure you could keep up on every conversation, especially the ones no one will expect you to understand. There's no time limit, but you can't eat until you're done. Oh," he said glancing towards the clock, which pronounced it to be eleven at night, "and you can't sleep either."

She looked as if she was about to explode. Her face was completely red with frustration, but she was speechless.

He smiled this time, unable to stop himself. "Good then, I wish you luck," he told her, and strolled down the hall to his room.

Many hours later, Clary began to realize this wasn't just a mental test. It was a test to see how she'd behave. It was a test to see if she could control herself, remain disciplined. It was a test to see if she'd actually listen, if she had the ability to do what she was told. That was when it hit her: this wasn't Jonathan's test, it was Valentine's.

He had likely told Jonathan to do this, in order to see how much of a Morgenstern she was and could be. She suddenly felt like she was being suffocated, controlled, and she hated it. But she didn't want to disappoint Jonathan, so she made no move to be disobedient or disruptive. She quietly finished her test, confident she had gotten every answer right. She was also pleased with herself that she'd been able to tough it out.

She stood up and walked into the kitchen, grabbed a banana off the counter and nearly stuffed the entire thing into her mouth. After that she barely made it to the couch before passing out.

She woke up to the sound of Jonathan snickering, and groaned. She could tell by the sky it hadn't been very long, and she was in no way ready to be awake again. But her stomach disagreed, it rumbled loudly, demanding she eat.

"Eat quick little sis," he said while he helped her up. "There's more to learn."

She stopped in her tracks. "But ..." she couldn't finish.

"I'm sure you passed Clary, I'm not worried about that, it wasn't the answers that really mattered anyway," he paused to shrug, "anyway that was only strictly Clave stuff. It's time for me to teach you the us-stuff. I promise it'll be a lot more fun," he explained.

The fact that he probably hadn't even looked at that test made her angry beyond belief, but once again she swallowed her frustration. He, hopefully, knew what he was doing. So all she said was, "no more school work? Because that's not fun."

He laughed. "No, no more of that."

"Good," she said, and then headed for the fridge.


	24. Chapter 24

As it turned out, being a beautiful immortal demon could actually be pretty cool. Clary was delighted to find out that she was capable of more than just your average shadowhunter, especially where demons were concerned. She had sat, eyes alight, as she listened to Jonathan tell her about all the crazy things she could do because of her blood.

The best thing was probably demon control. When the Mortal Cup was wielded by Nephilim, demons would be subject to their control. Apparently, though, at least according to Jonathan, he and Clary didn't require anything. Demons would fall to their mental or verbal commands at will. Because their demon mother, whom Jonathan called Lilith, was supposedly the _mother of all demons_, and they were her chosen children, her blood allowed them demonic abilities.

This included other stuff as well, like being able to restore a wounded or dying demon, not to mention self healing. If they focused their energy on their wounds, after a moment they'd heal. Clary thought that would have been convenient to know before, but Jonathan insisted it took a great amount of energy out of them, and he didn't want her relying on that. If possible, a rune was the best option. All that mattered was mortal wounds couldn't take their lives, next to nothing could.

When she asked about the _next to_ Jonathan told her only a blade forged in the fire of heaven could ever kill them. On earth, those didn't exist, and angels were too cold and uncaring to intervene in anything at all, humans were not of their concern. No one would risk calling on an angel without protection. Even then, it was an extremely rare attempt. Clearly it all was all a non-issue.

The only warning Jonathan gave her about her abilities was that Valentine didn't know about them. He was only aware of the superior strength and speed. Jonathan had discovered the others on his own, and had never told their father. When she asked why, he shrugged and claimed his gut told him not to. Valentine wasn't above anything, and Jonathan didn't want him to have any more control than he already did.

Loyalty to a parent, apparently, only went to necessary extents when you didn't love them. Jonathan was loyal to Valentine, for now, but he didn't care for him, that much was clear. For this Clary was grateful, she didn't much want Valentine knowing absolutely everything either. Keeping the extent of their abilities from him was definitely the best option. She liked having a secret leg up.

After he'd explained their capabilities to her for a decent amount of time, and described how they worked, it was time for what Jonathan referred to as _the fun part_. She got to test them out.

As soon as he said this, Clary's excited expression dropped. Last time she had checked, there was only a few ways to test this kind of thing out. As if anticipating her train of thought, Jonathan smiled. Then he opened up the drawer nearest him and pulled out a knife.

"Now," Jonathan said, "I don't want you to have to do this unless it's totally necessary, but if it is I need to know that you can do it."

Clary sigh and picked up the knife. Then she looked up at him for direction. He nodded towards her arm. "Let's just keep it in the safe zone for now," was his explanation.

Clary then dragged the knife across her skin, creating a deep gash from her forearm to her wrist. Blood poured out of her knew wound, dripping onto the table top and then to the floor. It stung like a bitch. She became mesmerized by it, watching the deep blackened-red colored drops pool into puddles.

"Clary!" Jonathan yelled at her, "Heal yourself!"

Clary came back into attention. "Huh? Oh yeah ..." She tried to focus on her wound, throw her energy into healing it, but it just wasn't happening. She couldn't even feel the pain anymore, and her vision was getting foggy around the edges. "Um... I don't think this ..." she couldn't even finish her sentence before blackness swam over her vision.

But just before she passed out, everything stopped. Her vision cleared. There was suddenly nothing wrong with her at all. All that was left on her arm was her blood, with no origin. She looked up at Jonathan, unable to hide her awe.

"You did that so easily," she mumbled.

He sigh, suddenly looking very tired. "I couldn't wait around forever for your system to kick in and bring you back. That teaches you nothing, you have to know how to do it at will, and you have to know how to recover from it quickly." As if taking his own advice he seemed to try to shake off his sudden fatigue. It took him a few moments, but he recovered himself.

Clary only shrugged, not knowing what to say. In the past she would have apologized, but she hadn't done that in months. She had nothing to apologize for.

Jonathan sigh. "It's probably my fault, we should have started you smaller. Tried cutting your palm or something."

She nodded. "That probably would have worked better, yeah. But I didn't know what sort of damage you were going for."

He sigh and stood up. "Let's get you cleaned up."


	25. Chapter 25

The Alicante air was cold but pleasant to Robert Lightwood as he made his way down its streets. He was on his way back to his temporary home where his youngest son and wife were staying. His wife had asked to prolong their trip to Idris, brought on by the Accords signing, and he had been happy to go along with it.

He had missed Idris as much as Maryse had after their punishment was placed upon them as formal circle members. He was in no rush to leave it, and it was in his nature to stroll about the capital city at whatever times of peace he had, enjoying its silence.

The calmness of the night did not last, however. A few blocks from his destination, in the corner of his vision, he caught a flash of dark red. It was in contrast with his surroundings, which was why his trained eye had caught it. Or so he thought, he couldn't have known that it was design for him to see the color and search it out.

He turned towards where he had spotted it and walked that way. When he turned the first corner he saw it again. This time it was clear what it was: hair. Someone had been following him, and now he was following after them. Or her, apparently. He wondered why a Nephilim girl would have been stalking him through Alicante streets.

He simply wanted to know who she was, and what had stopped her from speaking to him directly. Or maybe even that he was seeing the situation all wrong, that she hadn't been following him but simply minding her own business, and that he had possibly turned his head at the wrong time. After all, a teenage shadowhunter would certainly have reason to be making their way through the city at eight thirty in the evening. Perhaps they were rebellious, or wanted to explore what they may not have seen before. It would be perfectly sensible to him, as he was raising teens.

Nonetheless he continued his pursuit. As he walked a few lights would be on in some homes, illuminating his path. It was these times when he kept and quickened his pace that he began to be able to make out the shadow and form of the girl. But it was only when he hit the edge of the city that he realized he was not pursuing, but being lead. This was because the moment he hit the border, and felt the discomfort of passing through it, the red haired girl started running.

He almost turned back, re-entered the city as if he had never crossed out, but he didn't. Robert wasn't a man who let this sort of bizarre thing go, so he followed. About a quarter mile away from the city, where he could see trees in the distance beginning a forest, he saw her. The red haired girl was just standing there, seeming to be studying the night sky or possibly the distant trees. Her back was to him. He figured now would be fine, as this situation was starting to give off an eery feeling.

"Young miss?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

She didn't turn to him. "What I was told," she responded.

"You know it's against any sort of Clave protocol to illegally exit or enter the city," he told her.

"I suppose you would know what was illegal wouldn't you Lightwood?" she asked.

He was slightly taken back, as an older shadowhunter he'd rarely been disrespected by children or adolescents, as Nephilim were usually well manured, having been raised by the clave. But the girl's voice dripped with disdain, like she knew him personally and hated him.

His senses began to tell him to be cautious, but that made no sense. He was older, stronger, definitely had more training, he'd have no reason to be careful with a child, a disrespectful one at that. "I would. But that doesn't warrant poor behavior, and it has nothing to do with your current situation. Now, I demand to know who you are and what family you belong to. This and why you are out here, causing me to follow after you."

Now she turned to him. She was a pretty girl, dark hair and eyes. Her pale skin in contrast with her features. He'd never seen her before, but for some reason an inkling of recognition hit him. She had no purpose in being concerned with him, he was sure of it, but her eyes had his hair standing on end. They were just slightly too dark, the white not present at second glance. It looked... demonic. Robert pulled his seraph blade. It laughed.

"You arrogant Nephilim, assuming that pathetic weapon will have an effect on me." Its smile had no humor, it was a hateful sneer of its lips.

He was burning with curiosity, but his demeanor was cautious. Eidolon demons were clever, but as far as he knew their glamour was not strong enough to conceal themselves from shadowhunters, especially after they had been discovered. So how was it continuing to appear human to him? Most importantly: how had it been in Alicante? The wards had never, in their entire history, been breached by any type of demon. Let alone a Lesser Eidolon. If this one had entered, he needed to know what else could, and if those in Alicante still safe.

"Seraph blades kill your kind, as I'm sure you're aware," he responded.

It smirked. "Kill me then," it taunted.

But it didn't even allow him to move all of two inches in its direction before it pulled a knife from its red leather and flung it through the air towards him with precise accuracy. The pain ripped through his body from his lower abdomen, and he felt it exit through his spine with incredible force. He fell to the ground, becoming nothing but dead weight on his legs.

The demon walked over to him, its sneer looming in his vision. "Idiot. I'm not some pathetic little Eidolon, you should know better then to make assumptions Lightwood."

"I don't," he was choking on the blood coming from his mouth, "understand..." he couldn't finish.

It, or possibly she, only smiled wider at him. "Valentine says hello."

His eyes flew wide and he tried to respond, but the girl pounded her fist into his chest, and crushed his heart. His world went black, death coming before he could form even a final thought.


	26. Chapter 26

After Clary had snuffed out Robert Lightwood, it was only a matter of portaling back to New York. Creating portals was simple enough, Jonathan had told her it would be easy for her due to the amount of Angel blood she had in her veins. The demon blood, conveniently hadn't suppressed her oh so special and handy angelic talents. She found that runes came easily to her, and using them to be as simple as breathing.

That was one area she had the upper hand on her brother, as she had a more leveled concentration of Angel vs. Demon then did he. Probably why, in some of her baby pictures, her eyes used to be a light shade of emerald. She cut off those thoughts, annoyed she'd let her mind wander while she was standing in the middle of a dirty New York alley in the late hours with a body at her feet.

The body, now that was an issue. She took out her cellphone, ignoring the fifty plus missed calls from Simon and her mom that were always there, she imagined her voice mail was probably full by now. She kept telling herself she'd deal with it another time. Jonathan answered on the first ring.

"Is it done?" he asked.

"Hello to you too," she said. "Yes it's done, but I don't know what to do with him."

"No one can find his remains Clary, you know that. This has to be clean," he told her for what she felt to be the millionth time.

"I know but I can't just make a body disappear. It's not like -" she cut herself off.

"Not like?" came her brother's voice.

"Never mind," she hung up the phone.

Summoning a Behemoth was so simple she couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought of it immediately. Calling demons to her was almost a subconscious action at this point, requiring almost no effort at all. She left the thing to its meal and turned to portal away.

She could have portaled back to the apartment, but she felt like taking a walk. Now that the Lightwood father was dead, she imagined it would soon be time to meet hers. For weeks now while she trained, Jonathan was holding Valentine off. She'd heard the phone conversations. Apparently Valentine was anxious to meet his _Seraphina _and she was _supposed to be ready by now._

It had taken her a while to get all her tricks down, and an even longer while to be sure of her ability to use them. She was practically a master now, but she still wasn't sure she wanted to meet her father. So far her opinion of him wasn't stellar, and she knew how poised he probably expected her to behave. It wasn't something she was looking forward to, but the free period was ending. Clary tried to come to terms with that as she made her way toward the place she'd come to think of as home, possibly for the last time.

**a few weeks previous**

"Valentine," Maryse panted out. She was enjoying herself immensely, but this was the only time she had to speak about grave matters.

"Yes my love?" he asked as he rolled off of her.

Some part of her wanted to ignore the issues at hand, but they had to be taken care of. "Why is my husband still alive? I think it's obvious he shouldn't be breathing a moment longer." Her aggravation was coming out, her husband never touched her anymore- never had really. She had suspected long before they married that he may not be all that attracted to women, but now - after so many years - he treated her like the plague. Yet he was making it near impossible for her to sneak away.

"It's being handled May I swear. My children will be taking care of him shortly. He will be dead within a month," he promised her.

"And once he is dead? What of me?" she asked.

"Your disappearance will be key. No one is going to find his body Maryse. And when you go missing as well, they'll assume you were both taken. You'll remain in my safe house until the Clave is rebuilt in my image. You know all of this already, why are you so nervous about it? Have I ever failed you?"

Valentine was always good with plans and words, it was the first thing she had loved about him. But he had faltered without realizing it, and she was struck with pain. "You did fail me once, when you married that wench and left me with no one but Robert."

Valentine frowned. "I knew he would take care of you my dear. You two did not always have contempt with each other. You were friends."

"Yes, but I loved you. And I had to watch you be married to someone else, have a child with her," she replied.

"You know how hard it was for me to- I should have chosen you. I know that. It pained me to make that choice," he told her.

"Are you also pained by shortly after when you left everyone thinking you'd died?" She took a breath. "I'm sorry. I know we've already talked about this. I forgive you, I do, but do not act as though you've earned my total faith. For all I know you could be heading home to Jocelyn, wherever she is, and simply be using me in your plot. I know nothing until my husband is dead and I am safely away with you," she finished.

"As it shall be. I never loved Jocelyn as I love you. She was a chess piece and remains so. You, for all intents and purposes, are my wife," he responded.

She looked away. "A wife who has not born your children as she."

"It is good that you did not bear my children Maryse. I have told you of the torment the poison put on Jocelyn's mind. I've told you of the way she has tortured herself with the knowledge she has born only monstrous creatures. I would have never been able to use you as I needed her. I needed warriors, if you had born them..." he didn't finish.

She nodded, that was one thing she was thankful for. "We do, at least, share one child. Even if he is not truly our own." She smiled as she thought of Jace. Charming, full of attitude and personality. He brought the best out of her other children. He didn't know Valentine had raised him until he was ten and then sent him to her. She hadn't known it at the time either. It was only when Valentine had returned that she had learned Jace was not, in fact, a Wayland. But that he was, by blood, a Herondale, and by _adoption _a Morgenstern. After the years that had passed, he was her son. And even if he wasn't aware of it, he was too Valentine's. It was all very messy, but Maryse took comfort in it.

Valentine smiled. "Aw yes, Jace. Someday soon, he will join me. Likely he will be my heir, as our child it's only right."

That surprised her. "But what of your son? Your daughter?"

"Jonathan and Seraphina are warriors, not rulers. They will have a place next to me, but I do not think I could leave them to lead the Clave," he responded.

She nodded, "I do hope they aren't aware of this, I worry they wouldn't agree."

"No matter. That is an issue for many years in the future, darling," he said, and then kissed her.

**now**

Clary knew the time was near, but she didn't realize quite how near it was. When she walked into the apartment, Jonathan was sitting on the couch waiting for her.

"It's time," he said right away.

Clary wrinkled her nose, filled with annoyance. "Jonathan... do we have to do this? Why is loyalty so important? I know what he's done in the name of getting what he wants, why do you ... why do we have to continue to be his little soldiers? It's ridiculous." She had been hesitant to be honest about this, she didn't want to disappoint him, but she never quite understood his continued loyalty to their father, when she had been able to drop Jocelyn without a problem.

He took a deep breath. "You're right, it is. Look- it's because of his plan. He's going to bring down the whole Clave, Clary, and once he has it all under his control we're gonna take it. We'll give the world to demonkind, and we'll rule it for ourselves. I should have told you that sooner, but I needed you to focus on what was at hand."

She stared at him for only a moment, before her lips curved up at the corners, and her eyes were sparkling at him. "I thought, this whole time I thought it was because he was your father, and you just couldn't see- I don't know what I thought. I'm just relieved. I'll behave, for you, but I can't be loyal to him Jonathan."

He smiled. "I know. Don't worry. Once we have the Clave he won't be an issue anymore, for now he will just be an obstacle. Something to deal with. We may be stronger than him, but we can't over power him when we still need him, and he is a powerful man Clary. Don't try to take him on until it's time to kill him. Promise me."

She sigh. "Alright I promise. I wish he was at least accepting of us."

He stood a little closer to her. "We'll deal with it, find ways to have time together without him knowing. You know that."

Clary reached up to wrap her hands around her neck and kiss him, it only took him less then a second to respond to her, and then their lips were moving in sync. It had been too long since they touched each other like this, kissed like this. They both felt the ache for the old times, when it was just the two of them to worry about, before anyone threatened their time together or how they felt about each other. Clary broke the kiss first, gloom coloring her features. She didn't want this to be over, and neither did he.

"Hey," he said as he cupped her face. "I love you. Everything will be okay." Then he kissed her again, slow and sweet.

She nodded. "Alright," she sigh. "Let's go."

They left their beautiful apartment, both refusing to look back.


	27. Chapter 27

Valentine and Maryse sat in what likely used to be a staff room in Renwick's Ruin. It was a place Valentine had sought out to keep himself and his family hidden well. This was where his children were to meet him, his daughter for the first time. He could see from Maryse's body language and expression that she was nervous, but he wasn't intimidated by his own children. His son would never defy him, and his daughter would be made to be well behaved, if she wasn't already. He was confident she would be obedient, that he could manage her temper as he had his son's.

Maryse's head snapped up as a door opened and closed, and the sound of feet echoed through the hallways. She was nearly shaking when Jonathan and Seraphina entered the room. He rested a hand on her leg. _Be calm_, he tried to communicate, _do not let them see any power they have over you. _Her head nodded once, as though she understood.

The first thing he noted was the flaming dark red hair, nothing like Jocelyn's orange locks, that flowed past her shoulders. The second thing was her eyes, they seemed to be the most intricate combination of dark green and black, as though they were a pattern. The black seemed to swirl, cutting into him. For the slightest fraction of a moment, Valentine felt a discomfort underneath that gaze, but a moment later it was gone.

"Seraphina," he said, rising and stepping towards her.

Her eyes flicked over to her brother, then back at him. She shifted her legs, but stayed silent.

"You should speak when you're spoken to," Valentine told her in a perfectly calm tone.

Seraphina's eyes filled with fire, but she kept herself. "I don't know what you want me to say," was her reply.

"I'm your father Sera. You could at least greet me with respect"

She smiled, but it wasn't a smile. It was a narcissistic, disrespectful twist of her lips. She opened her mouth, but Jonathan reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to him for a fraction of a second, and her shoulders relaxed. She stared at Valentine for a moment, then said, "I can't do this."

Valentine watched in silence as she turned her back and walked out of the room. Then he turned to his son, giving him a look that could burn holes in his face. "You swore she was ready," disappointment coloring his tone.

Jonathan only looked at him, then followed his sister out of the room.

Clary was turning corners, trying to find her way back out of the building she'd been dragged into. Anger was burning inside her, all directed towards her _father _who had treated her like a child precisely three seconds after meeting her. He was nothing but the delusional controlling asshole she'd predicted he'd be. A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Jonathan.

"Clary don't," he said as he turned her to face him.

She met his eyes, her apology for him written in them. He softened.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

She was immediately confused. "What do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who fucked that up bad. You warned me how he'd be, and I basically -"

"No," he cut her off. "It wasn't fair of me to expect you to be able to tolerate him. He can be- I should have stepped in or something."

She sigh. "It's not your fault he can't even call me by name. That's his. And that whole thing about respect? Why should I respect him? I don't recall him ever showing me any respect at all."

"I know Clary, but that's how it is. I know you hate him, I hate him too, but you know we need him. Which means you have to try. Just tell him what he wants to hear, it's not easy I know but you have to. Do it for us okay?"

Clary relented, then she bent up and kissed him. It was only a second, but it made her feel better. For them, she could handle herself for them.

Maryse watched as Sera entered the room after her brother and schooled her features into one of apology, even though her eyes were totally empty.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," she told Valentine calmly.

But Valentine accepted it. "It's fine. I know you had no idea what to expect of me. But I assure you, as long as we respect each other our family will accomplish much."

Sera smiled. "Of course."

It had been almost a week since Clary had met Valentine, and she had been perfectly behaved when she was around him. She hadn't complained about her name to him, or let anything _disrespectful _escape her tongue. She lived by Jonathan's advice, saying everything her father and Maryse wanted to hear. Yet, they were still hiding away at Renwick's. Clary was impatient. She wanted to get whatever plan her father was supposed to have on the road. On the fifth night, she finally got her wish when Jonathan came into Clary's make shift room on the third story. "Valentine wants to see us," he told her.

Now she was standing in the office where she'd first met her father and Maryse Lightwood. "Come in," Valentine said.

Clary's body was tensing. This was finally the beginning, she could feel it, but her excitement was torn to shreds with only a single sentence.

"Sera, we need you to go back to your mother."

Clary's eyes flew wide, disbelief coloring her features. She opened her mouth to reply, but Jonathan helpfully cut her off before she could destroy all the progress she'd made.

"Why?" he asked.

"We need Sera to be a spy. In order to do this she will have to gain the trust of those at the New York institute. Hodge Starkweather is already a loyal disciple of mine, but the teens who currently reside there are not. I need Clary to take up residency in the institute so she can keep tabs on the Clave and relay any developments Hodge may not be trusted with back to me." Valentine explained.

"Okay, but how does any of that have to do with Jocelyn?" Clary asked.

"You cannot simply stroll up to institutes doors, tell them you have no idea why you can see them, and then expect them to even let you in, much less believe you. That won't lead anywhere at all."

Clary nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"We are going to have to set them up. Allow them to see you see them, and you play the part of a confused girl who is unable to make sense of anything she sees. In order to be that girl, you need to have a home. A family. Some sort of explanation for why a Nephilim girl was not raised a shadowhunter. That requires you to go back to your mother, if only for a time. Make them believe you know nothing, get them to open their doors to you. That is the only way this works," he finished.

"But my mother isn't just going to play along. No one is. I've been missing for months and months. I can't just walk back into my mom's house and expect her to be my cover story," she shot back.

For a moment Valentine seemed stumped. "Indeed," was the only thing he said.

Clary waited.

"You're simply going to have to lie to her. Make her believe we kidnapped you, and it took you this long to get away. Whatever story you have to spin. You have a week to make her trust you again. She loves you, she will want to believe you so she will. Try to salvage some old mundane friendships if you had any. One week, two at the most. Remake yourself back into your average mundane girl. Good luck." Then he stood up and left the room.

When the door shut Clary turned to Jonathan. "Once I'm in... how long am I going to be there?"

His eyes were distressed. "As long as it takes. Clary I'm sorry. Remember that you're doing this for us."

She looked up at him. "But I won't even get to see you..."

"Clary," he said cupping her face, "of course we will see each other. I'll probably be watching you, just like it was my job before. Every free moment that you have to get away, every time no one is watching I will be there."

A weight lifted off her shoulders, he would almost always be close by. There was no way her father trusted her enough to let her carry out her indefinite _spy mission_ all by herself. For once it payed to not be completely trusted. "You're right," she breathed in relief.

He kissed her softly, it lasted only a few seconds. "Believe me, this will end up being a good thing."

She nodded, then sigh. "I guess I better get going then, mundane life awaits."

He smirked and kissed her forehead. "You'll be fine," he said.

She walked out, taking comfort in knowing a few minutes later Jonathan would follow.


	28. Chapter 28

Walking up to her mother's door was harder than Clary had expected it to be. To go back inside was the last thing she had ever wanted to do. She gave herself a brief moment to collect her true emotions, and then she put on a mask. Looking down at herself, she carefully inspected her appearance, trying to gouge how convincing it looked. On the way here she had stolen some old mundane clothes from a thrift shop, and then ripped and dirtied them as much as she could. She could still feel the dried blood from her nose, which was the result of smashing her head into a random car window, trailing down her chin.

She hoped this was what kidnapped children looked like, or all of this would be for nothing. Then again, it would all be for nothing anyway if Simon had talked to Jo about any of their phone conversations. There were a lot of unknowns in play here, but she really needed this to sell. She told herself Jo would buy it, the gullible bitch that she is. Holding on to that confidence, Clary began frantically banging on the door. "Mom! Mom!" she shouted. "Open the door please!- mommy!" It was only when the first neighbor opened the door opposite her mother's that Clary realized it was likely very late in the am_. Doesn't matter_, she figured. _The more witnesses the better right? _She banged on her mother's door again.

Only a few moments later Jocelyn opened up. She was in her night attire, clearly had just woken, and yet she appeared more alert then Clary ever remembered her seeing her. When her eyes rested on Clary's they flew wide, and her jaw slacked. Voluntary tears sprang up in Clary's eyes and she internally cringed. _I probably look like a defenseless dying puppy,_ she thought. But her face portrayed nothing of her real thoughts. She forced herself to look relieved, yet still scared. Jocelyn clearly had no need for all the theatrics, she threw her arms around Clary and cried.

Clary boxed up the discomfort, and hugged her mother back fiercely, praying the whole time that she would let go soon. The she-demon could tell Jocelyn would buy everything she said in an instant, because Valentine was right, she wanted to.

The next weeks were the longest of Clary's life. For three weeks, surpassing Valentine's time allowance, she had to explain to every official in the area the story of her supposed kidnapping. She repeated constantly how, after she had snuck out of the house on her birthday - which she had been forced to apologize profusely for - a man in black had grabbed her on the way to the club, where she was meant to meet up with a friend. Apparently Simon had kept quiet before, and now corroborated Clary's story. He must really trust her- and be really pissed off. But Clary couldn't focus on that yet, just the story.

So she talked about how she had been stuck in a basement, the only contact from above being when she was fed, or being beaten up. The remaining bruises from all her training played into that detail nicely.

She even pretended to describe her captor to the police, making up random features and then sticking with them. Then she would tell the tale of her escape, and how miraculous it had been. How her first instinct was to find her way home immediately. When she threw in the bit about how _handsy _her captor had been, all of the suspicion on the officers faces washed away, replaced immediately by acceptance and ample sympathy.

Even after the police let up, reporters who had heard the story even showed up at Clary's house. She let Jocelyn play mama bear when that occurred. Her fake PTSD also gave her plenty excuse to stay isolated, and had two consequence perks. The first was less time spent acting, and the second was keeping Simon at bay. She needed time to think of what to say to him. Why she had lied about the calls, where she had really been, whether or not those answers should be the truth.

She knew she couldn't keep this up, eventually she would have to re-enter society. Plus the more time stuck in her room pretending to deal with trauma, the more she missed her brother. And in order to go along with Valentine's plan, she would have to remake herself into an ordinary girl again. Let the news blow over and go back to being unnoticed and average. That was being made more difficult each day she kept faking post traumatic stress.

Now, as Clary lay on her old bed and stared at the ceiling she knew so well, she decided that four weeks was enough. Tomorrow she would come out of her room, and start the actual mission. She would have to tread carefully, and she would have to start with Simon.


	29. Chapter 29

It took four days. Four days after she came out of her room and started talking to her mother for Jo to agree to let her see Simon. She told her mom she wasn't ready to talk to everyone, she just wanted to talk to one person, just Simon. And after four days Jo was finally convinced.

So Clary was sitting on the couch next to Jo, waiting for Simon to show.

"Mom?" Clary began quietly. "Is it okay if I talk to him alone?"

Her mother looked over at her, worry and a hint of suspicion in her eyes.

"I just think... if it's the both of you looking at me, I don't- I don't know if, I mean ... it's been a long time since I've been alone with more than one person and I- I just ..." she pretended like she couldn't finish.

Jocelyn's eyes had softened, now only worry lay within them.

A pause. "Yes. Yes I think it would be best if you spoke to Simon alone. I could go grocery shopping- unless you'd rather I stayed here? I wouldn't leave you if you didn't want me to," Jo added quickly.

Clary pretended to think about it. "No ... you should. Go shopping ... Simon would never do anything to me. Right?"

Jo didn't wait a moment. "Right. You're right. I will go when he shows," she told Clary.

She pretended to take deep breaths, and a moment later there was a knock on the door. Clary purposely flinched at the sound, then acted as though to calm herself.

Jocelyn opened the door and there Simon was.

She looked back at Clary for a moment, who betrayed nothing, and then let Simon in. She then grabbed her purse and left the house.

As soon as the door closed behind Jocelyn, Simon started in. "Clary, what the hell?" She knew he was trying to stay calm, that maybe part of him bought her story and he was trying not to upset her, but for the most part he was angry and confused. She couldn't blame him.

Clary opened her mouth, prepared to tell him the special for-Simon-only story that she had made up in her head to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

She couldn't lie to him. She knew that was what her father, even her brother, would want, but she just couldn't. The whole story she was prepared to tell just died. She stared at him.

"Well?" said Simon, his false calm cracking even more. "You're gonna need to tell me something Clary. Explain to me why you've been lying to the cops, wanting me to lie to the cops. I almost screwed up your whole story you know. They asked me if I really was supposed to meet you at the club that night, and after I said yes, they told me I didn't because you'd been abducted. Because supposedly you've been in someone's basement, unable to contact anyone or get away. And you know, I almost told them that wasn't true, that I'd spoken to you. That we talked on the phone and you made it seem like it was your choice to leave and that you were fine. Your mother thought so too, because you were the type who wanted to leave. But I didn't say that, you know why? Because I thought to myself _why would she lie?_ There must be a reason why you made all that up, or maybe it was somehow true, and I was just missing details. So I kept it to myself. And when they asked, I told them no. I hadn't had any contact with you. Yes, your story was probably true. No, you had no reason to lie. So I deserve to know why, alright?" Simon finished, taking in a deep breath to calm himself.

Clary was silent a moment and then she said, "You're right. You do deserve to know. But I can't tell you the truth unless you promise, you have to swear Simon, that not a single other soul will get any of this information from you," she told him.

Simon was quiet, but then finally he agreed.

So Clary started at the beginning. Everything that happened since the moment she laid eyes on Jonathan, and all the missing pieces of her life that had fallen into place. She told him who her father was, and about his plan. She told him about Jonathan and how much she loved him - for the moment she left out the fact that he was her brother, Simon didn't really need to know that. And she told him about her darkness, about her blood, and how everything had made so much more sense since she found out. She told him about all the mythical creatures around him, and how Jocelyn had lied to her about all of it. All her shock and anger and everything she had felt since the night she left came flooding out into Simon's lap. And when she finally finished, the silence was deafening.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Simon spoke. "Oh ... Oh my God Clary. You're- you've lost it."

Clary recoiled as if she had been slapped. Of course he thought she was insane. Had she been listening to herself? Before everything had went down she would have thought the same thing. Simon was looking at her like he had no idea what to do. She could see it in his eyes, he meant it. He thought she'd lost her marbles. She couldn't speak. She didn't plan for this, she should have anticipated this reaction, but she hadn't. For some idiotic reason, she just thought he'd take her at her word. _Stupid_.

Simon started to stand, and it was him who spoke again before she could respond. "Clary... I don't know why or how you called me. The calls were real. But your _fake _story- it's starting to seem like that's the real one. I think- I think this magic angel story that you think is real, I think you're using it to cope with something. Something terrible happened to you Clary, whether it's what you told the police or something worse, it was something. And I think you need h-" Simon was cut off by Clary.

She had stood up as quickly as a cobra and punched him in the face. Hard. Not as hard as she would have punched Jonathan, but hard enough that Simon's nose was definitely broken. The bone was clearly off center, and he was bleeding badly. She almost felt guilty, but guilt didn't exist when she was mad.

She grabbed him by his pathetic little nerd shirt and pulled his face close to hers. "I am not broken. No one kidnapped me. No one could kidnap me, if anyone tried I would kill them. The bull shit I made up for the cops, and every word I have said to my mother since I've been back, is fake. Understand? I don't have PTSD. I'm not insane. I'm not weak. It's part of a plan. And if you ever give me some shit about needing fucking therapy for what I've _been through_ again, you will regret it," she told him icily.

Simon's eyes were wide. He'd seen Clary angry before, but that all consuming rage had never been directed at him. She could tell he was wondering if she had always been so strong. "Okay," he choked out.

Clary let him go. "Go clean yourself up," she ordered, still sounding cold.

He backed away from her and made a careful way toward the sink.

As Clary sat and watched Simon reset his nose, which sounded like it hurt, and clean up the blood, she couldn't help but feel sad. She hadn't seen Simon for months, he was the only one she had missed, and the first time she sees him after all that time she hurts him. He provoked her, and she didn't regret it, she just wished she had found a different way to get her point across. She would have to control herself, violence wasn't going to help him believe her. But what would?

She watched the blood from Simon's nose drain down the sink from where she sat, and it hit her. Her abilities, he would believe what he could see.

Simon was just standing over the sink now, probably trying to figure a way out of her house without beating assaulted again.

Clary quietly walked over to him where he stood in her kitchen. "What I told you- I can prove it," she said.

Simon only looked at her expectedly, if a little nervously. That nervousness turned to actual fear when Clary opened a drawer and pulled out a steak knife.

"Oh relax. It's for me," she told him. Then she jammed the knife into the side of her leg.

"Clary what the fuck?!" Simon yelled.

"Just," she paused to yank the knife out, "watch." Clary focused on thoughts of her wound, of it healing, just like she'd been taught, and she felt the gash slowly close. The inner wound would take a little while. But it was enough for Simon.

"Where... I just saw you put a knife in your leg but ..." he was at a loss.

"It's something Jonathan taught me I could do. Something we can do, but he's better at it," she informed Simon.

Simon was looking at her like she was a blow fish now. "So ... so everything you said ... was real?" he asked in disbelief.

"I told you Simon, I'm not insane" she said simply. And she could tell that he believed her.

Once Simon knew what he'd been told was the truth, he wanted to know everything. All the details Clary left out, the why's the how's and the when's. He was also particularly interested in the who's.

"So... you met your real dad huh? How was that?" he asked her carefully.

"He's an ass and I hate him. So condescending and rude, and he treats me and Jonathan like shit. Like I said: an ass," she told him adamantly.

"So why even stay? Why didn't you leave as soon as Jonathan introduced you?"

"I already told you. Jonathan is the reason. I love him."

"Right," Simon looked down, "why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you love him? Jonathan. From everything you told me he seems ... I don't know... dangerous?"

Clary didn't move for a minute, and then she started laughing.

"uh ... was that funny?" asked Simon.

And normally it wouldn't be. But dangerous? That was Simon's biggest concern? Admittedly Simon wasn't aware of the blood she shared with Jonathan, and he probably didn't grasp just how dangerous Clary was herself, but it was still funny.

"Aw Si," she said after she stopped laughing, "you don't get it do you? I am one of the most dangerous people in the world. Jonathan is dangerous, because he's just like me. He's my match. And trust me, if there's a reason Jonathan isn't suited for me, it isn't because he's dangerous." She was still smiling. The only person who could make her laugh like that was Simon, whether it was by ignorance or on purpose. She really had missed him.

Simon didn't speak for a minute. "It's not that I underestimate you Clary, I mean you just broke my nose, so I would be stupid to. But who are you really a danger to? I mean you wouldn't-" For some reason he paused in the middle of his sentence. He was looking straight in her eyes. Perhaps he could see the blackness in them. ".. Oh. Oh shit. You would, wouldn't you? Oh my God, have you?"

"Simon, what are you talking about?" She asked, even though she knew.

"Killed Clary! Have you killed anyone?" He questioned her, the disgust in his voice nearly masking the horror, but not quite.

"Si..." she didn't really know what to say. Simon with his morals, of course he'd react like that. She should have lied to him, he shouldn't know any of this. She'd made a mistake.

He was quiet now, his eyes making his thoughts transparent. "It's yes or no," he told her.

"Fine. Then yes," she said.

Simon turned around and left, the sound of a slamming door left to ring in Clary's ears.


	30. Chapter 30

"Simon?" Isabelle, his girlfriend, said as she knocked on his door. Simon was sitting inside, trying not to think but thinking anyway. He hadn't spoken to Isabelle for two days, not since before his talk with Clary. He cringed. Every time he thought of Clary all he could see was blood. _Murderer _was imprinted in his mind, his best friend in the world was a murderer. And not a guilty one, he could tell by the way she sneered when she told him. As if she was annoyed he had a problem with it. Some part of him always knew Clary was a dark soul, but for some reason he never thought she'd take anyone's life. Would she kill him, he wondered, if she thought she had to? Was she above that? Simon didn't know, and that's what scared him the most.

Isabelle knocked again. "Simon, I know you're in there. Come on, open up."

Simon sigh and managed to drag himself up and over to the door. He opened it.

"Oh ... Simon babe you look like hell," she told him matter-of-factly.

"Thanks," he responded sarcastically.

Izzy sigh. "Would you like to tell me what's going on? I've been calling, you know," she informed him. Isabelle's very dark brown eyes scanned him.

Simon only held the door open so she could come inside, and then closed it once she entered. He made his way back over to the couch where he'd been sitting, and remained silent. Isabelle plopped down next to him and waited.

After a moment Simon spoke. "It's nothing izzy I'm just- I'm worried about Clary." _There_, he thought. _Not a total lie_. But he hated that he felt like he should he lie at all. He had agreed to keep everything a secret, but that before he knew she'd killed someone. And he knew who too. When he'd come home after seeing Clary, he hadn't known what to do. So he opened his laptop and done a search. _Dangerous girl with red hair_, and then clicked the news tab.

What had come up was horrific. Mexico. That's where she'd been several months ago when two people had died and countless people were injured at the hands of her and a counterpart young man who he assumed was Jonathan. There were blurry pictures and short videos captured by cell phone of an extremely violent fight that had happened between the two of them. It was after they'd disappeared that the area police had discovered two dead at the scene. The _culprits _were never found.

And what Simon had done after discovering all of this surprised even him. He got into a server, and deleted it all. Everything. All the pictures and videos that could be used to identify Clary on the public internet, he scrubbed them. The only people who'd be able to find any of this were global officials and those who still had personal footage. And apparently, they hadn't.

No one was looking for Clary outside of the United States, especially not after she had returned and told her story. He'd only gone looking when she had told him the truth, and no one else knew that truth except for him.

But he couldn't imagine how he could he tell Isabelle any of this. Even if he hadn't sworn his psychopathic best friend that he wouldn't, he didn't know where he would he even find the words if he wanted to. He couldn't explain why he was still protecting her, if he didn't know why himself. And how would Isabelle look at him after he told her? She would think he was either certifiably insane, or, if she believed him, just sick.

"-mon? Simon?" Isabelle's voice broke through his thoughts.

He looked over at her. "I'm sorry. What were you, um, saying?" he asked.

She rolled her dark eyes and pushed her black hair over her shoulder as she shifted closer to him. "Uh huh. Just worried about Clary. Sure. Simon, Clary has been back for weeks. And I know it was hard while she was gone, but you weren't this bad even when she was missing, and she's okay now. Well, I mean as okay as she can be after everything sh-" but she was cut off.

"Don't," said Simon.

She paused, surprised. "Don't what?"

"Don't say _after everything she's been through._"

"... why? She has PTSD Simon. She was kidnapped and-"

"Stop."

Isabelle huffed and stood up angrily. "Look. I don't know what's going on with you, and I don't get why you won't talk to me. You're not making any sense and you're starting to freak me out. So when you feel like being honest with your girlfriend, you know where to find me."

"Isabelle-" Simon started.

But she was gone.

Isabelle wasn't being fair at all and she knew it. Simon was keeping things from her, and that pissed her off. But she had no right to feel like that, since all she ever did was lie to Simon. He barely even knew her. She was a fucking shadowhunter. She'd met his mom, and he'd met a lovely mundane couple who were all too happy to take her money and pretend to be her parents every once in awhile. She'd hang out with his band, and he'd come and hang out with Isabelle's werewolf buddies that he didn't know were werewolves.

Her parents, her brothers, even Jace, had no idea Simon even existed. They thought she was running around with downworlders all the time. If they found out she'd been dating a mundane for forever now, they'd think she'd been cloned. And then they'd make sure she never saw him again. She loved Simon, but it was her fault their entire relationship was a lie. She wore glamours to hide her marks around him, and yet she was being eaten alive by Simon's dishonesty. How hypocritical of her.

But even as she chastised herself all the way back to the institute, she couldn't shake it. She wanted to know what the hell his problem was, thought he should be getting better now. His best friend, who could have been dead, was back and safe, but he was acting like his world had just been blown up. She just didn't understand, and that made her angry.

She unlocked the institute and threw the doors open, letting them slam shut behind her. She was still fuming when she walked smack into Alec.

"Woah," he said. "What's your issue?"

She rolled her eyes and walked past him into her room. She let that door slam too.

She heard an exasperated Alec say, "_women_" from the hallway.


	31. Chapter 31

It had not been that long a time since Robert Lightwood's disappearance, but it had been long enough. Isabelle and Alec were both very aware their father was dead. Since coming to that conclusion, the Lightwood's had had some off days. Or rather, the Lightwood children had. Maryse, Isabelle's mom, had practically been a ghost since he went missing. Izzy knew that Alec liked to pretend she needed space to grieve, but Isabelle wasn't so naive. Her mother had not loved her father for a long time. It was doubtful she even grieved him, but Isabelle kept those things to herself. Voicing them would help no one, especially not Max.

Max. Well, Izzy didn't really have to worry about him. Max was in Idris, being home schooled by family friends. He had been the last of the family to see her father alive, and the little trooper was likely still holding on to the hope that his dad was out there somewhere. Well, he was a child, he had the right to be naive. And even though Izzy missed Max, more than she missed her mother and even more than she missed her dead father - which was probably a horrible thing to feel, especially when she'd lost him so recently by some standards- she was glad he was somewhere safe, and far away from her. That was so she wouldn't have the chance to ruin that hopefulness for him, at least not until he was older.

While Max remained in ignorance, Isabelle and Alec healed. She would say Jace had too, except she imagined he didn't have much to heal from. Robert was never cruel to Jace, but that was because he was never anything to Jace. He was like an awkward acquaintance, there was no love in his heart for Maryse's golden boy. Jace had moved on from his death fairly quickly. Alec had taken some time.

As the oldest, he'd always been the favorite. But Isabelle knew in Alec's eyes, that was a sham. If Alec had had the courage to tell Robert who he really was, their father would have been the opposite of accepting. Alec's strongest grief stemmed from disappointment in himself, that he had not had the courage to be honest with his father before he was gone. That Robert would never know the real him, that because of that Alec would never have the one in a million shot at being truly accepted and favored. But Alec was healing, and that was what was important.

Isabelle herself, had just felt cold. Like she was carrying a part of her heart that was empty every since her father had passed, but that hole was closing every day. She was moving on, but it's in the loneliest of hours when you think of all those who have left you. Whether it be by death, like her father, or by a sort of choice, like her mother, or even by circumstances, like Max, everyone left her alone somehow.

Well, not everyone. Alec and Jace hadn't, Hodge hadn't, but they didn't exactly get a say.

Isabelle was strong. But if he never opened up to her about what was wrong, or more likely if she never told him who she really was, she was afraid Simon would be the same, that he would leave her too.


	32. Chapter 32

It had been a little over a month since Simon had spoken to Clary. He'd seen her in the hallways at school though, where everyone and their grandmother had made damn sure Simon wasn't the only one staring at her. But those stares had stopped for the most part, and Simon's anger and fear had turned into something close to, if not, misery. He missed her, missed the Clary who had been his best friend, the scary-but-sort-of-sweet-to-him ginger who had always been there for him. He had Isabelle, even though she had been somewhat peeved since their fight, but Clary was still a missing piece.

He tried to tell himself that that Clary was gone, that she had died that day when she'd chosen some other _better _bloodier life over the one she shared with him. The moment she had decided murder was okay. But a part of him, a part that was growing louder every day, knew that maybe things weren't completely black and white like he had always been taught they were.

The Jewish religion didn't exactly allow for justification of innocent blood shed. But should he, should he at least let her explain her thinking? Hadn't this silence between them lasted long enough? Maybe he could he forgive her. He had his faith, but he didn't know who he was without Clary, or how he could go on like this, missing her every day when she was right there. He had asked himself these questions more and more as the weeks had passed, and he still could not put even one of them to rest.

It didn't help that Clary was acting like he barely existed. Since the initial shock of her return had faded, she had thrown herself into being social at full force. She had friends, lots of them. She seemed like she might be a completely new person, one that wanted acceptance and a high school experience just like every average teenager would, but Simon knew. He was reminded every time they made eye contact, when he saw that sinister glint in the swirling black of her irises, that it was an act. She probably wanted to kill everyone who even looked at her. Simon shuddered to himself. _Bad thought_. But hadn't she always had that glint, had he just never analyzed it before? The answer to both was probably yes.

It was as he was sitting in chemistry, watching the _social butterfly_ Clary get invited to go to the club with a blue haired pretty boy with a strange vibe, that it suddenly hit him. He had to get past this, at the very least he had to understand. Walking out of Clary's house that day with only horrific questions and next to no answers had been a mistake. He deserved to at least know this new Clary, the one who had come home a deadly warrior. He deserved to know if in some way, she was still his best friend.

So he payed attention. He listened to the hushed whispers coming from Blue Hair's lips that told Clary, and him by consequence, where to go and when. It was ironic, tonight he was going to pandemonium, the club that he and Clary hadn't made it to last year, and it was there that he was going to see if he could get her back.

**hours later- outside pandemonium**

Simon shouldn't be here, so why was he? Clary had a good setup going here. She'd been invited to the club by Jake, an Eidolon demon who liked to make snacks of high school students, and often posed as a high schooler. Where Jake went, sometimes Nephilim would follow, and she had it on good authority that they would be following him tonight. She'd been trying to set up a _chance encounter_ with the shadowhunters for weeks, ever since Jonathan had relayed Valentine's dwindling patience.

Jake was her shot, the product of all her efforts to turn herself into the unsuspecting social type. And she didn't even have to tell him that she knew what he was, or threaten him at all. He probably thought he was going to get to eat her at the end of the night. But all her effort was about to go down the drain if Simon got in her way with all his righteousness. She needed him gone, and she needed it long before Jake showed up.

If it was anyone but Simon threatening this carefully laid plan, she would just take him out. But it was Simon, and for some reason she could not even explain to herself, he was still one of two people she would protect with her life. The only way out of this was cautious manipulation. _Please Simon for once in your life please just listen to me and go away,_ she pleaded silently as she made her way over to where he was attempting to obscure himself from her view. She yanked him out from between two people by his arm and dragged him to the alley behind the club, knowing she had to make this quick.

"What are you doing here Simon?" she asked immediately.

"What? I'm not allowed to go to the club?" he responded.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Last time I checked your name was Simon Lewis, so no, you don't go to clubs. Not for yourself," she informed him.

"Yeah well, maybe I do now. You wouldn't know, I mean we haven't exactly kept in contact."

"And who's fault is that?"

"Yours." Simple word, quick and true.

"Look. Any other night I would probably be thrilled you were speaking to me again, but not tonight. Please Simon I need you to leave."

"I'm not leaving. I came here to talk to you I came to give this new you a chance. To see if I could unders -"

"Wait stop. New me? You can be such an idiot."

He blinked.

"Simon. There is no _new me_. Do you really still not get that? I'm Clary, the same Clary that you have known your whole life. A lot changed while I was away, but who I am? I've always been this. You just never saw it."

"That's not true Clary. You weren't always a m-"

"Murderer? Don't be willfully blind Simon. I may not have been a murderer in action back then, but in my blood, in my heart, I always was. I'm a demon Simon. No one taught me to be a demon. I was born one. And demons? They're murderers, we're murderers. You can't honestly look me in the eye and tell me you never saw that."

Simon couldn't speak, he was hardly even breathing. And he definitely couldn't tell her she was wrong, she could see it in his eyes that he knew she was right. He had seen. He'd just blinded himself to it, gotten used to it, probably had even made up excuses for it. But now the cold truth had just slapped him in the face. His psyche was probably collapsing in on itself, and part of her wanted to hold him. To win him over, to make him understand like he just tried to tell her he wanted to, but she just didn't have time.

So Clary turned on her heel, and ran back around to the club entrance. She caught Jake just as he was entering the club.

"Hey you," she smiled like she was totally at ease. "Sorry I'm a little late."

Jake's glamour was probably smiling back at her with a boyish face, so she pretended that was what she saw.

"Good thing you showed," he said. "I was about to go in without you."

She laughed it off as if she had heard it in the most playful tone ever, like how it was probably intended. Then they both walked past the bouncer and into the club, her smiling on his cold dead arm.


	33. Chapter 33

"I'm telling you," Alec insisted, "there's something up with Isabelle."

Jace only rolled his eyes, and continued to scan the club full of dancing teenagers.

"I'm serious man. Isabelle has her own life, I know that, but something's got her really pissed off lately and I'm pretty sure it isn't me," Alec told him.

"Maybe she's dating some werewolf and doesn't want your ass getting on her case about it," Jace suggested.

"Hey. I don't have a problem with werewolves, but if it is a boyfriend that's had her walking with a stick up her ass for the last few months, then yeah I got a problem with him."

Jace stayed silent, but Alec could practically hear his sarcastic response going through his mind. _Oh no watch out Alec's in protective big brother mode. _Probably something that sounded better than that, but Alec didn't have Jace's sass, and his imagination couldn't quite get it right.

"Don't you think it's just a little bit weird that Isabelle didn't want to come with us?" Alec asked.

"Hodge said it was one demon, we could handle it in our sleep. Isabelle didn't need to come, she'd just be bored," came Jace's ever-quick reasoning.

_Fine_, Alec admitted to himself, _he has a point._ Out loud he said, "I'm just saying. I think something's up."

"Shut up. There it is. Blue hair, tall, near the center. Nice of him to make himself obvious for us."

Jake felt it immediately, the loss of control over himself. It was like a cord had been cut, he couldn't change shape. He couldn't even decide his next movement.

"Don't make this difficult for me okay?" came a whisper.

He looked over toward its origin, the girl he'd brought here. He couldn't recall many times he'd ever been caught off guard, but he was right now. "What is this?" he asked her, voice devoid of emotion.

"Don't be disappointed. I needed you as an in, it's nothing personal," she said, and then she glanced over toward the opposite side of the club. He could see them now. Shadowhunters. Just two, males. Easily avoidable. That was if his legs weren't moving him directly towards them, by no force of his. It was her, she was controlling him. Her smirk had made that much clear before she had walked away, melting into the club and the sweating bodies.

Now he was practically in the center spotlight, and the Nephilim boys were on the move.

When they were only feet away, he felt his own body take off, but not towards the exit. He was heading towards a supply room. Of course. So they could corner him, away from all the mundane eyes. His death would be less messy now. _No_, he hissed to himself to no effect, _this can't be happening. _But it was.

Clary had to time this perfectly, this had to be perfect.

As soon as she had forced Jake to run into the back room, she let go of his will. Then she promptly ran over to the nearest security guard and made herself look like a raving lunatic.

"I swear sir you have to help me these guys were chasing my friend, they have knives! Please they took him over there! Please you have to help me!" she screamed at them, earning the stares of a few people near enough to hear her. The guard himself looked intensely annoyed, but nonetheless followed her lead. This was it, make or break moment.

Clary burst through the door and screamed. A blonde shadowhunter boy that Clary secretly knew to be Jace Herondale -a fact even he was half unaware of- was holding a seraph blade to Jake's throat. Lucky he hadn't killed Jake yet, it would make the acting easier.

"What seems to be the problem here miss?" the security guard interrupted.

"Are you serious!?" Clary shouted at him, with a face stricken enough to convince herself, and turned back towards the Nephilim. "Let my friend go please no one has to get hurt," she said carefully, sounding unhinged.

Jace and the other one, Alec, were both staring at her like she had two heads of course, but didn't move a muscle.

"Do something!" Clary screamed at the guard.

"Miss," the club security was understandably uncomfortable, "there's no one in here."

Clary gaped at him. "They're right there!" she yelled, then turned and looked Jace in the eye.

"He can't see us," Jace told her.

Clary forced tears to spring up in her eyes. "This- this can't be happening... this isn't real," she began to insist, sounding mad.

The security sigh, and said, "miss?"

"Don't. Leave. Just go." Then Clary, in a dramatic show of being overwhelmed, slid to the floor.

The club officer didn't move, but after a moment he seemed to not know what to do. So he simply left the hysterical crazy ginger to cry in the service room.

Jace Wayland shoved his seraph blade through the blue haired Eidolon, whose body disappeared, and then he turned back toward the girl, who let out a whimper from the corner. She probably thought she had just seen him murder a friend, and that friend had vanished.

Jace knew how witnessing death could damage a person through experience, so he began to ask himself how he was going to get this girl to think she hadn't seen it. But he was also burning with curiosity as to why she could see anything in the first place. Alec, on the other hand, hadn't said a word. He looked like he didn't plan to, so Jace took it upon himself.

"Who are you?" Jace asked her.

She didn't even look up at him, a fresh tear rolled down her cheek. "Why won't you disappear?" she whispered, like she was asking the question to herself.

"Why would you expect me to disappear?"

"Oh I don't know," finally eye contact, "because you aren't real." Her voice dropped back down to a whisper and she said, "they're never real."

Jace and Alec shared a glance. The Sight.

"Never?" asked Alec, "as in: this has happened to you before?"

The girl was staring at the floor again. "It always happens. I see things, sometimes horrible things, and- and they're never real."

"What have you seen?" Jace asked carefully.

For a while she didn't answer, and then finally she told him, "once I ... I thought I saw a fairy. It was so beautiful you know. I was really little, and I told my mom that- that I could see tinker bell. That was the first time..." she trailed off.

"How often do you see things" asked Alec, betraying nothing.

"All the time," she paused, "I even thought I saw a vampire once. I was with my best friend one night and we were on our way here actually... and I saw her. She was beautiful. But the blood... the ..." the girl choked herself off with tears. "I'm crazy," she sobbed, "I'm crazy. What am I doing? I'm talking to nothing, I don't even know if Jake was really here."

Jace watched as she wiped the tears from her eyes, and even though they were immediately replaced by new ones, she stood up anyway.

Then she turned on her heel and left.


	34. Chapter 34

Isabelle. Her name was the first thing Simon could think of after Clary had basically torn him to shreds in this alley. He needed Isabelle, needed to see her. He needed to be reassured that the world didn't have to be the way Clary saw it. That it didn't have to be cruel, that she didn't have to do what she was doing, didn't have to be what she was.

Simon knew quite a bit about Clary's plan, or rather her father's plan. Take down the Clave, the government of some superior race. That's what she was trying to do, wage war on an entire race. Probably to wipe them out or make them slaves or whatever it was _demons _did. Kill thousands of people who were in her family's way, and he resisted the way his heart ached because that family used to include him.

Isabelle, go to Isabelle, someone who still loved him. Someone who would listen and tell him that everything was going to be okay, someone he cared about who wasn't a corrupted lying sociopath.

Simon pulled himself up off the dirty cement and went in the direction of Izzy's house. _Please be_ _home_, he pleaded silently with her, _I need you._

Gina Kelley was in the middle of a particularly emotional episode of _Ghost Whisperer_. She was interrupted by a careful knock on her front door. She sigh and lifted herself off the couch to get it, but when she opened it she wished she hadn't. It was the Simon boy.

"Hi Ms Kelley is uh ... is Isabelle home?" he asked weakly.

Gina was damn sick of this. Pretending to be someone's mom was ridiculous when it was only at scheduled times, now the girls friends were showing up at her door on random nights and she was still expected to keep this up? The payout was simply not worth the trouble anymore. So she decided right then to quit.

"Look Simon? You're a nice boy, yeah? Well your girls a liar. She's not my daughter, she pays me to act like it and I'm pretty sure it's so she can keep lying to you. But it's none of my concern. I'm sorry, but you should go." She was just about to shut the door in his face when she decided to take care of it all right there and then, adding, "oh, and when you find Isabelle let her know our arrangement is permanently over and she obviously owes me nothing." Then she did shut the door.

Simon couldn't accept what had just happened. Isabelle's mother was not her mother. Isabelle Kelley was not Isabelle Kelley. His girlfriend was a liar. Apparently no one was who he thought they were anymore. It had been a long time since Simon had cried, not since he was nine years old. But he couldn't help it, and pretty soon the tears were clouding his vision. He didn't even know what direction he was walking in, or where he was attempting to go. So he stopped and walked into the first building he found - which turned out to be a Mexican restaurant - sat down at an empty table and let himself cry. He felt weak and embarrassed but it was too much, it was all too much.

Someone tsked at him, making him look up. He rubbed his hand down his face to wipe some tears. Then he realized he was staring at a young Hispanic boy. Or, at least he looked young. But he also looked ... strong.

"W-what do you want?" Simon decided to ask.

"I want to know why you're sitting in here choking on your snot like a pathetic fool," said the boy.

It took a minute for him to respond, but, "bad day," was all Simon decided to say.

The boy said something in Spanish that sounded condescending, but then refocused on him.

"What is your name _chillon_?" asked the boy.

Under normal circumstances Simon would have had a different reaction, but right now it wasn't worth it. So he just said, "Simon."

"Do you like being weak Simon? Do you feel no shame that you sit here and cry in public?"

Simon looked back up at the boy.

"Of course I don't. I mean no I do feel I mean ... I'm not weak," he finished, exasperated and wiping leftover tears from his face.

"You are, but you do not have to be. You could be strong in more ways than one."

Simon looked at him for a moment. Strong. Clary was strong, and look where that led her. But Simon didn't want to be weak, he didn't want to need a kid younger than himself to tell him he was pathetic. And Simon had recently learned there were a lot of unseen threats in this world who could perceive him as weak as well. So finally he asked, "how?"

The boy glanced around the empty restaurant, and then stood up quicker then Simon would have thought possible a few months ago. _Oh_, thought Simon, _Simon Lewis pegs someone wrong again. Figures. _Then the boy slashed his own wrist with a knife on the table and offered it bleeding to Simon.

Simon only looked at him. "Drink it _pendejo,_" the boy commanded.

And Simon could suddenly see Clary in his mind. A smaller Clary, with slightly brighter eyes. She was yelling at him for crying in front of that bully when they were nine. "You let him see you be dumb Si!," she had yelled. "Now he's gonna come back!" Clary thought he was weak too, even back then she was the strong one. Simon was suddenly so tired of it. So, for a reason he wasn't even sure made sense, he took the boy's wrist and got some of his blood in his mouth. Then the hand was gone, wrenched away. The boy smiled, then said, "when you are ready to be strong Simon, you will find me. Instinct will lead you. And when you get there, ask for Raphael."

Simon was left alone again, but he was done crying. Being weak had left him nothing. He was blind, and so he let a girl make him think she loved him for years when he didn't even know her real last name. He was too moral, so he'd been prepared to give up the best friend he ever had without even understanding what she was really trying to do or why. Years ago he had been too weak to do anything about it, so his father was dead. He was a decent guy, but he'd lost everything anyway. And he was sick of it. Maybe Clary and her family had it right, it's the good guys who finish last, the good guys who lose.


	35. Chapter 35

"Jace. Jace... Hey! Earth to Jace!" said Alec.

"What?" Jace said, looking at Alec for the first time in the past ten minutes. They were nearly back at the institute, and Jace had been perfectly silent the entire time. Usually after taking out a demon Jace was very talkative, proud of himself, but not today. It had to be because of the girl.

"There wasn't anything you could have done for her Jace. She was born with the Sight, not actually crazy. One day she's going to be okay."

"No Alec, one day she's going to be in asylum. She has the Sight, and it's ruined her life. She may not be crazy but she thinks she is, and for mundanes that's enough. Someone should help her. The Clave should be looking for people like her, doing something for them somehow."

"The Clave can't waste resources like that, we have a mandate and you know it. Besides, what good would finding them even do? It's not like all of them go crazy. Some write _fiction_, some become vampire hunters, seeing the truth gives them purpose. She got the short end of the stick, but that's not the our responsibility," Alec told him.

"Yeah, just seems kinda wrong you know? We just let her go. And I feel like we shouldn't have," he admitted.

"And what would we do with her? She may have the Sight, but she's still mundane."

"That's the thing, I'm not so sure she was."

Alec side glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mundane. I don't think- I mean ... I just got this vibe, like there's something more to this. You think I'm being stupid."

Alec was quiet for a moment. "Actually I think you might be right for once."

Jace was almost shocked. Alec thinking he was right? He must be being punked. "So you felt it to? Like she wasn't just some mundane?"

"Yeah. When we were in there with her it almost felt like .. she was like us. But that's impossible."

"Maybe it isn't," Jace responded, and then quickened his pace. "We need to talk to Hodge."

Clary always knew when Jonathan was close, and as she made her way back to her house she could feel him around her. If she really focused, she could hear the near silent pattern of his breathing.

He was probably here to ask how it had went, or to tell her what the next step was. She was about to open her front door when she felt him come up behind her. She turned and smiled, but then she said, "I'm pretty sure Jocelyn is home you know, she could open the door at any second." Always cautious.

"Doesn't matter even if she did. I trust your introduction went well?" He asked. When Clary nodded, Jonathan continued. "Good. Then they will try to come into contact with you again, whether by choice or by Hodge's orders. And when they do, we take Jo out of the picture."

_Finally_, Clary thought, _some good news._

That was until Simon stepped out of the shadows and into her view.

"Sorry to interrupt." He'd clearly heard what Jonathan had just said, but the statement had not sounded horrified or disgusted or self-righteous or any of the other Simon-tones she'd become accustomed to since she came back into his life. He simply sounded tired, both physically and mentally. It had Clary curious.

Jonathan, however, was tense. Cautious. Clearly didn't have a clue how this was going to go. Even after everything she'd said to Simon she was still silently pleading with her brother not to make a bad first impression. She rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment, as if to say _relax _and then walked over to Simon.

"I honestly wasn't sure if we'd ever speak again," she told him.

He met her eyes. "I wasn't either. Not right then." Clary understood right then was referring to little over an hour ago, but it had been a long night. Clearly for him as well.

"What changed then?" she asked almost carefully.

He was quiet for a moment, focused only on her. "I'm tired Clary," he finally said.

"Of?"

"Of being against you. Of trying to convince myself to let you go because it's the _right thing_. The right thing blows," he told her, sounding truly drained.

Clary's heart nearly missed a beat. It had been a while since she felt hope for her relationship with Simon. But here he was, sounding like he was actually ready to listen, to give her a chance. Maybe, just maybe, she could have what she was after and keep Simon too. He just had to change his perspective a little, and for the first time ever he was starting to sound like he might be able to do that. "So what are you saying Simon?" She couldn't keep the hope out of her voice.

Simon took a breath. "I'm saying... I'm saying I want to be on your side. I've always been your sidekick Clary and I've always been okay with that. It's what's meant for me, to be on your side."

Clary couldn't help it, she hurled herself at him, forgetting for a second that Simon was still relatively weak. Simon went down hard under her force.

"Oh wow," Clary said getting up quickly, "that was an accident."

Simon made a noise that was basically an _ouch_. Clary laughed. Jonathan cleared his throat.

She'd been aware of his presence the whole time, but this was the first time she had a chance to introduce them. "Right yeah. Simon this is my ... Jonathan."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Clary. He's back just like you wanted him to be. I don't know if I'd recommend keeping anything from him now."

Simon looked up at Clary curiously. "I know you kill people and want to wipe out a whole race or whatever and I'm still here, what else could there possibly be?"

Clary scoffed. "We don't want to wipe them out, not necessarily. It's complicated. And what he's talking about doesn't even matter," she told Simon, giving Jonathan an annoyed look. It wasn't necessary for Simon to know, so why did he want him to?

"Just tell me then," was Simon's response.

Clary sigh.

"She's my sister," said Jonathan. Well if the news just had to be out there Clary guessed it didn't matter who told him, she was just pissed he had to know at all.

Simon was silent for a beat. "Come again?"

"She's my s-"

"Yeah he heard you the first time," Clary said as she elbowed Jonathan hard in the side cutting him off.

"No I don't think I did. Because before I thought you said you were like ... with him."

Clary sigh again. "I am."

"So you're sleeping ... with your brother?" he asked slowly.

"Yes alright. Yes he's my brother. Yes we have had sex. But it's not like how you see it."

Simon was looking a little green. Jonathan was clearly trying to keep a smile off his face and failing. She wanted to elbow him again.

"Look both of you have to scram alright? For now Jo still lives here and it's astounding she hasn't come out yet. So just leave and I'll talk to you both tomorrow." And then before either of them could say anything she opened her door, walked inside, and shut it behind her.

Jonathan knew perfectly well why he could not keep the shared blood between himself and Clary a secret from this kid, and that was that he was jealous. He knew it sounded ridiculous, but Clary loved someone besides him and he loved no one but her. And to make it even more annoying was that this useless, scrawny mundane had been given more chances with Clary than he cared to remember. Yet Clary treated him like he was a precious gift. The weakling pissed him off and he was the only person he couldn't hurt. So any chance he had to make the kid uncomfortable and rub his relationship with Clary in his face, he was going to take. It was just how Jonathan operated. So when Clary left the both of them standing outside her door with each other, he smirked at him. Simon swallowed, muttered something, and then walked away unnecessarily quickly. Jonathan held back the desire to laugh.


	36. Chapter 36

Jace barreled through the institute doors with Alec at his heels, his single call for Hodge echoing through the building and drawing Isabelle from her room. She, after taking in the sight of her brother scurrying after his parabatai towards the library, followed quickly after them.

"Did I miss something important?" she asked Alec urgently as they both kept up with Jace.

"Yeah, you'll get all the details in a minute," Alec told her simply.

Once the three made it into the library and located Hodge, who came towards them as quickly as an old man would, he skipped the greeting. "Is something the matter Jace?" he asked.

"Not exactly. We were hoping you could tell us what to do. See we went to dispatch that demon - we did - but there was this girl -" Jace started, but was interrupted by a sigh from Hodge.

"I don't have time for this," he told him. And since that was true he took the logical course of action, he turned to Alec. "Alexander, explain please."

So Alec did, in the clear and concise way that he was trusted and expected to. When he was finished, Hodge said, "I see."

"_I see_?" Jace repeated. "Don't you think we should at least find out about her or something?"

"I do, and I would have said so if you would have given me a moment to collect my thoughts," said Hodge.

Jace didn't respond, just stewed somewhat.

"We should find out what we can about this girl, just to be certain she is merely blessed with the Sight and nothing more, but it is not the moment's priority. It's late, and tomorrow all three of you are needed. You can make contact with the girl after that, under whatever circumstances you would prefer Jace, since it seems to be you who is the most concerned."

Jace nodded. Then Isabelle asked the obvious question, "what are we all needed for tomorrow?"

Hodge sigh. "I wanted to be sure they were not simply rumors before I involved anyone else. But word is spreading, and I had to inform the Clave. There are whispers of Valentine's return in Downworld, and they seem to be founded in truth."

"The demon," Alec mumbled mostly to himself but also to Jace, "before the girl ran in the demon we dealt with said there was something we might want to know. I thought he was just trying to bargain for his pathetic existence but what if he knew something about Valentine?"

"He was a lesser demon," Jace responded, "he was probably just going to tell us that he was alive."

"It's of no matter now," said Hodge. "Tomorrow I need you three to find out if I was correct to inform the Clave, find out if any downworlder in New York knows of Valentine's whereabouts."

The trio nodded.

Once the kids had left Hodge in the library, he sighed to himself. He was, of course, well aware of the uselessness of what he'd just asked the three of them to do. But, if Hodge were in fact the loyal guardian he was assumed to be, the mission would have been a valued one. It was only his status as Valentine's mole that made it useless. He knew what the kids would discover, that the rumors were, in fact, true but that there was no other substantial information on Valentine to be discovered. A waste of a day, but necessary.

He had to avoid seeming suspect at all costs, and the rumors of Valentine's return had simply grown too loud for him to hold from the Clave any longer. Valentine himself had okayed it. Sending the kids out for clues was just another element for his cover, and it gave him time to confirm Seraphina's impending infiltration to Valentine, and provide time for any needed preparation. _Always the good servant_, Hodge thought, rather disappointed in himself as a man.

The next day Simon was on his way to Clary's, hopefully to finally get some straight forward and real answers, but he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He may have thrown his chips in with team Clary, but he still felt a little ill at the thought of looking Jocelyn in the eye. It was a Saturday, so she would be home. And knowing how Clary really felt about her mother, he couldn't imagine Jo had very long left on earth. So all the way to Clary's he counseled himself. _You chose your side Simon,_ he told himself in his head, _Jo made her choice a long time ago and it wasn't the correct one. There's nothing anyone can do for her now_. Simon preached this silently as he walked.

He wondered how he was going to be able to turn that part of him off. The moral part, the part that was the _good guy._ How could he make that go away completely? It did nothing for him anymore except keep him down. He was literally on the demon's side now, and everyone was probably going to die. If he couldn't find a way to quiet the Simon that was the lonely foolish good boy, he would never truly be content. He was making the correct choice for him, he had to teach himself to live with it.

So when Jocelyn opened the door and greeted him with a smile, Simon looked in her eyes and smiled back like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. It wasn't long after that that Jocelyn went out to do whatever pretend-normal moms do. And when the front door closed and Clary's bedroom window opened to a full head of white-blond hair at the precisely the same time, Simon forced relief to replace any fear.

"But why can't I just kill her the night before and fake the whole thing?" Clary asked Jonathan, her voice colored with annoyance.

Jonathan sigh. "The Cup Clary, we need the Cup," he admitted to her.

"I ... I was under the impression you and Valentine already knew where she put it," said Clary curiously.

"No. Valentine knew she had it, and he found out where she was less than a month after she ran, long before she'd even given birth to you, but by that time she'd already hidden it. We need to know where before you can kill her," he informed her.

It was then that Clary caught Simon's eyes from the corner of her bedroom. "Does... does this kind of talk still um... bother you?" she asked Simon carefully.

Simon shrugged. "Oh please Clary," he said, "you've wanted to kill your mom since you were like eight. I figured that would be high on your list. No I'm staring because I have no idea what Cup you two are going on about."

Clary could barely contain how pleased she was at Simon's response. "Oh well um... the Cup is one of The Mortal Instruments. Used to be protected by a special group of shadowhunters but my mom stole it from my - Valentine after he stole it from them," she explained to Simon.

"Got all that mundane?" asked Jonathan.

Simon gave Jonathan a look like ice. "I'm not an idiot you know. It's not like Clary instantly knew all this shit when you first met her either asshole."

Clary saw Jonathan hide an impressed look. Good. As long as Simon kept the bravado up he and Jonathan would get along sooner than she hoped.

Simon refocused his attention on Clary. "And what do you need these Instruments for?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Valentine needs them. Supposedly all of them together are capable of summoning The Angel."

"Why does he need an Angel?"

"Not _an _Angel, _The _Angel. The one that bred the Nephilim, the legends and everything- not important," Clary brushed off the boring history and continued. "The point is if you summon him the right way he's required to grant you one thing. Valentine wants to use that to make himself ruler over the Nephilim."

"You guys actually want your dad -excuse me, Valentine - to be a supreme ruler over thousands of warriors. I thought you said he was a douche."

Clary smiled, Jonathan smirked. "Accurate," Jonathan allowed.

"He is. No, we want him to take control, so we can kill him and take it from him. But he doesn't know that, obviously."

"And once you two are in control, then what?" Simon wondered.

Clary grew quiet.

Clary just looked at him for a minute, deciding how to phrase this. She hadn't exactly told him any details like this the first time she rushed through a story about a vague plan to take over a race and be a Queen. She hadn't exactly told him what would happen to everyone when she and Jonathan had the world in their grasp. She wanted to sugarcoat it, to keep him from leaving her again, but she knew she couldn't lie to him anymore. Especially not like this. So finally she spoke. "The world is um... this world isn't going to be a safe place for people like you Simon," she admitted.

Simon barely flinched. "Explain," was all he said.

Clary looked at Jonathan for help. He didn't care, he could just rip the band-aid off. Easy.

"Humans. It's not gonna be a good place for the mundane," said Jonathan. "When the world belongs to us, it's going to belong to the people like us. Anyone and anything demonic. Demons, Vampires, Warlocks, Werewolves, and the Fae only because we couldn't possibly get rid of them if we tried. The only happy, safe humans left on earth are going to be the ones blissed out and bred for vampire food. That's it." Each word contained no mercy, but no malice either, Jonathan was simply stating fact. But Clary was still waiting for the Simon she'd come to know these past long weeks to come flooding back to the surface to tell her how disgusting she was. Only, he didn't. He only looked at her, so Clary did something she hadn't done in a long time, she started rambling.

"We could still protect you Simon. Your mom, Rebecca, I'll make sure you guys are safe if that's what you want you can trust me I wouldn't let anything happen to you guys. There are places, options, I mean I'm not going to let you guys die okay that's not what we're saying at all-"

"Stop for a second," Simon said quietly, but his voice held force. He was thinking. "What if you didn't have to? Protect me I mean," he finally asked.

"I don't understand," Clary said. Jonathan just looked at him with mild interest.

"Okay. Look that night after the alley ... after, I went to where I thought Isabelle lived -"

"What?" Clary interrupted.

Simon glanced at her. "Huh?"

"Isabelle. What do you mean _where you thought she lived_?"

"Oh. Right. I didn't get to tell you what with the whole _by-the-way-we're-siblings-with-benefits-bye! _thing." That earned an eye roll from both Clary and Jonathan, but Simon just continued. "Isabelle isn't- uh ... I don't know who she is. I went to her supposed house when she didn't expect me and Mrs. Kelley told me Isabelle wasn't actually her kid blah blah blah, not my favorite moment to remember."

Clary barely interacted with Isabelle. Other girls her age had always ticked her off, so she had avoided Isabelle to make sure she didn't jeopardize Simon's relationship with her. The few times they had met Clary had thought she was a little sketchy, and dressed like a prude for someone who had the body of a supermodel. But the girl wasn't even real? That was just low. Clary wanted to find her and rip her spine out.

"Hey," Simon said. "Don't. Don't get all I'm-gonna-find-that-bitch-and-rip-out-her-spleen. It's not necessary."

_Well_, Clary thought, _he was close._

"Anyways like I was saying. After all that I was in this restaurant and long story short I met this vampire - I mean I'm pretty sure he was a vampire. He basically reduced me to shit on the bottom of his shoe and then offered me _strength _which turned out to just be his blood. And I kinda, uh, accepted," finished Simon.

Clary looked at him a moment, but it was Jonathan who spoke. "Meaning you drank it?"

"Uh yeah. He said I'd know where to go when I was _ready _and to _ask for Raphael _which I mean I'm assuming that's him right? Gotta be."

"You'd want that?" interrupted Clary. "You'd want to be a vampire?"

"You basically just told me the world is gonna turn into a paradise for you and a bloody shit hole for me and you're asking me if I'm willing to become something like you? Yeah Clary, I feel like living without having my ginger best girly-friend guarding me until I grow old and die," Simon responded.

Clary grinned, Jonathan even nodded in approval. "Things would be easier if we didn't have to make sure you weren't dead every five minutes," he admitted.

"Then I'll do it then," Simon decided. "I'll be a vampire."

"But not yet!" Clary said quickly.

"Why not?" Simon asked.

"My cover. We have to do this creatively. It's only by luck the Nephilim haven't come to stalk me yet. I need to make sure I'm solidly a part of them before you Change. I can't have a vampire for a best friend and still play the unwitting damsel. It wouldn't work. We have to infiltrate them first, then figure out how to do it from there," Clary explained.

Simon nodded. "So what are we supposed to do for now?"

"Wait," Jonathan supplied. "It shouldn't be much longer."

Clary felt such strong contentment in this moment that she smiled. This was how it was supposed to be, she could feel it. Her, her brother, and her best friend all on the same side, getting along even, aiming to take over the world. The rest of her life had never looked better than this.


	37. Chapter 37

Clary had always taken comfort in the total darkness. Lying in her bed at night, watching the cold blackness of the night become darker and darker still until nearly nothing could be seen at all. Something about it had made her believe that solitary comfort could not be matched, but she had been wrong. The solitude had been what kept it from perfection all these years. She knew that the first time Jonathan had opened her window late at night, and laid down next to her on the bed to enjoy the dark with her. It was when she discovered all that had been missing was his arms wrapped around her, and the rhythm of his beating heart soothing her. And every time since, she had enjoyed the blackness more than ever before.

But, even though he was again here with her, tonight was not the same. Because Clary knew this would be the last time, for a long time, she would ever fall asleep in his arms. Knowing that added a bitterness to the moment, forbidding it to be sweet.

Somehow, Jonathan knew that. "Clary," he whispered. "I will be with you at every possible moment I can."

It wouldn't be the same though. Tomorrow the Nephilim would come looking, and if all went according to plan, she would join them in their institute, infiltrate their lives, and destroy the shadowhunter legacy from the inside out. And then, one day, she and her brother would spend an eternity together.

So Clary whispered, "I know," and kissed him.

Then Jonathan whispered, "wake up."

The visual part of the memory evaporated slowly. The rest stayed with her, burying itself deep. _I will be with you at every possible moment I can,_ he had said, before she'd unknowingly drifted into a waking dream. She was upright now, her hand where Jonathan's body had been, probably hours earlier. It had been total darkness then, and now it was dawn. She wondered if a Lightwood, or possibly a Herondale, was already watching her house from the shadows of the morning. Clary sigh, locking her true self in her heart, and rose from the bed.

Jocelyn was making pancakes, which was fitting for the last thing she'd ever make. In just a few minutes, Clary would call Simon, and they'd make their way down to the café. But when she returned, Jo would be gone, her house would be destroyed, and a demon that barely qualified as threatening would greet Clary in this very kitchen. Her body was already tensed in anticipation for today's game plan, but she willed herself to relax. _Clueless. Slightly unhinged. Nonthreatening. Defenseless little girl_, Clary ordered of herself to be.

So instead of the bitchiness she wanted to unleash on the woman putting a ridiculous smile on her pancake, she looked at her mother with false love. And she did this all the way up to the moment she opened her front door, and closed it behind her.

Simon met up with Clary halfway to Java Jones. "So," Simon started.

"Be careful what you say and how loud you say it," Clary responded.

He looked at her, asking the next logical question with his eyes.

"He's been on me since I left my house. He's a pretty decent distance away, so I doubt he can actually hear us, but there's a lot about angel boy I don't know."

Simon decided to talk like unsuspecting civilians then. "It's Sunday you know," he said at just slightly higher than your average volume. "They might have poetry today. If Eric's there he'll be happy to see us."

Clary groaned on the inside. "I'm sure he will."

Sometimes the fact that Simon had other friends, and even a band, slipped Clary's mind entirely. She idly wondered if he was okay with them dying. He seemed to grasp the concept of everyone's impending death when he agreed to stand with her once and for all, but maybe he hadn't taken everyone into account. Now, though, was not the best time to ask. She needed Simon right now, and she wasn't going to chance a reminder that may set him off in front of the very person she needed to gain the trust of.

It was only after Clary and Simon had entered the café that Clary remembered a possible problem. Simon could See. He hadn't been born with any Sight, obviously, but you could be taught to See. And knowing the truth about the world for months could open one's eyes.

"Listen to me," Clary hissed under her breath as she turned to Simon, "you can't see him."

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

"You shouldn't be able to See him. You're normal and average. You have to pretend like he isn't there, look right through him okay? No eye contact under any circumstances. Don't even look at his feet."

"Okay. But what do you mean See?" he asked. This topic hadn't come up. But they had taken a seat, and Angel Boy was outside the window.

"Just do what I said and I will explain later," she hissed, and then put her false persona back on.

They sat back, and did, in fact, find themselves listening to Eric read terrible poetry. Simon kept to his word, and when Herondale looked directly at Clary, Simon was giving Eric a thumbs up like there was nothing else in the world going on.

The next sequence of events went exactly as planned, Clary leaned against Simon, fidgeted, freaked a little, and then frantically told him she was gonna get some air. She was waiting for Jace when he followed her outside. Clary turned to him.

"Please please please go away alright?" she begged him.

"Clary, that's your name right? Clary things aren't the way you've believed," he informed her.

The urge to roll her eyes nearly made an appearance. Instead she pricked them with tears and yelled, "You're not real!" Then, as if more to herself, she said, "It's never been this often before."

"That's the thing. You're not crazy. I am real, and so is everything you've ever seen that didn't make any sense to you. It's all real Clary. You've just been the only one who could see it," he told her.

"Oh. Okay. This.. this is a psychotic break. It's finally happening, I'm trying to convince myself that it's real." She looked up at him. "How do I make you disappear? I just want it all to go away," she cried. She leaned against the brick wall. That was when Jo called. Perfect timing. Clary pressed ignore and continued to hold back her fake tears while the Herondale boy stood there and watched her.

Finally he said, "Clary. I promise I'm not going to disappear. I'm real, no matter what you believe. The mundanes around you can't see me because I'm hidden from them. You can see me, I believe, because you are like me. You're not a mundane."

_I'm nothing like you you idiot_, she thought to herself, but instead she only sniffed and stood up. "Say I believe you. What does that even mean? What's wrong with me?" Her phone rang again as she spoke. Again, she ignored it.

"Nothing is wrong with you. I believe you have Nephilim blood. I don't know how or who you really are, but if you can trust me, we can find out. Don't you want to know-" Jace's very boring speech was helpfully cut off by Clary's phone ringing once again. "You should probably answer that, since it's the third call in the last three minutes."

Clary sigh, and pressed accept.

"Mom? What's going on?"

"Clary! Clary you answered. Don't come home baby you can't come home." Clary could hear the telltale noises of a struggle in the background and smiled inwardly to herself.

"Mom! No mom what's going on? Mom!" she yelled dramatically. She'd laugh about all this later.

"Don't come home Clary. I love you and I'm so sorry" she said, and then the call disconnected.

"Mom!" she yelled into the phone. Then she stuck the phone in her pocket like it was useless and turned to Jace. "Give me your phone!" she demanded.

"I don't have one," he informed her.

Clary made a gesture towards the sensor he was holding that could be mistaken for a phone. It still delighted Clary that the device didn't go off in the presence of herself or her brother, instead it only detected full fledged demons, nothing less. Therefore, its capabilities excluded downworlders, forsaken, and the likes of herself. Very convenient.

"This isn't a phone. It's a s-" Jace started to tell her.

Clary made an exasperated noise and grabbed the device. She made like she tried to make a call with it, deemed it useless, and then took off down the street with it still in her hand.

She ran very slowly compared to what she was capable of, and Jace followed on her heels, back a ways but still obviously following. When she blew through the doorway, she found exactly what she expected to find. It was destroyed. The front door was in pieces and the rest of the house wasn't in much better shape. She walked through the house slowly, inspecting the damage. Valentine's minions had overdone it a little, some of the damages obviously not necessary. No one would actually look twice, though.

When she made it to her kitchen, she heard the hiss of the Ravener demon she had known would be waiting. Jace wasn't here yet, so there was no need for theatrics. She forced the Ravener over to her, and for lack of anything else that would do the job, she shoved angel boy's sensor down its throat.

Poor, dumb Ravener. Died just a few years before demon kind would forever be safe. It reminded her of a soldier who died a day before the war was to end.

Clary lay down on the ground and pulled the corpse on top of her, as if she had killed it while it was attacking her. Then, grimacing, she grabbed the demon's poisonous limb, and jammed it into the back of her neck. The world went dark shortly after.


	38. Chapter 38

Jace couldn't believe it. Clary obviously had been stung by a Ravener, the ugly puncture wound on her neck attested to it, but the demon was gone and Clary hadn't been eaten. Which meant it must have been killed. She must have killed it, returned it to its home dimension. He couldn't understand it, how she had done it, but he didn't have time to dwell. He picked up Clary's unconscious body and took her outside, to the other side of the street and out of sight. He laid her limp body on someone's lawn. The supposed police were just showing up, he needed to get her out of there. That's when she whimpered.

Damn that stung. Clary was starting to regret using the dying thing's limp stinger on herself. She could have convinced Jace some other way, some other less awful way. The poison in her body was starting to make her wish she could have at least stayed conscious long enough to see the animal actually die. It could have given her some pleasure. She groaned aloud. The worst part of this was she was having to physically exert energy to prevent her body from healing itself before Jace could do it. If Jonathan was watching somewhere in the shadows, which she would bet he was, he was probably really annoyed with angel boy right now.

_Hurry up with that iratze dumb shit, _she thought at him. Instead, she groaned again.

"Don't move," said Jace.

_You think?_ She wanted to slap him. Instead, because she had to play at normality, and mundanes were dense, she moved. Then she spasmed and yelped in pain. She hated that nearly as much as she hated the poison, because it made the weakness feel too real.

"I told you not to move," said Jace, ever quick as always. Clary was starting to miss rolling her eyes.

"I have to get you out of here," he told her as she started to lose consciousness again. For a mundane that would be normal, for Clary it meant she was wasting too much energy trying to keep the healing at bay. Jace stopped tying whatever he was putting around her neck and finally, mercifully, took out the stele.

"Wh... what's that?" Clary forced herself to ask right before she was out again.

Jace didn't have a choice. If she was, in fact, just a mundane blessed with the Sight, she was more than dead anyway. If she was Nephilim like he believed her to be, the rune would save her life. She'd already lost consciousness again, so he made the decision. He carefully drew the iratze on her pale arm. Later, he would feel really good about that decision. It saved her long enough for Hodge to treat her.

Simon wasn't the type of person who liked to dwell or reminisce about the past, but right now he couldn't stop thinking about his old memories. And that was because they were confusing the hell out of him. It had started after Clary left the café, he was watching Eric read an attempt at _romantic _poetry, and he'd started thinking about Isabelle. First about some good times they'd had, then how she'd lied to him, and then he'd started thinking about the first time he ever saw her. That was when things got fuzzy, and weird.

He couldn't remember the moment right. He had thought he had been on a late walk through the park. He should not have even been in the park that night, he'd had plans with Clary somewhere. But three weeks into freshman year Clary had gotten in a brawl with a girl at school and gotten suspended, so her mom had grounded her. Simon had been bored, so he'd been in the park, and had seen Isabelle in a loose black dress, and she had smiled at him and then continued her walk towards the turtle pond. Simon lost track of her in the dimming light after that, but he had wanted to see her again. So he had stopped by the park around the same time every day until, on the fourth day, he'd seen her again.

That time he'd had the confidence to stop her and talk to her before she headed toward the pond, and the rest was history. Or he had thought it was, until he found out she was always a lie.

Only, when he saw the first memory of her in his mind now it was messy. It had seemed like she was ... transparent. Like he'd only seen her for a few seconds and then she'd disappeared. In certain flashes of his memory, he saw her walking towards a pond, but in others he saw her dressed in black jeans disappearing into water. He couldn't understand it. He tried to focus on the details, and the haze would appear, like he was looking through fog. It was almost like he was blind that day, like he shouldn't have seen her at all.

When that realization hit him, something in his memory shattered. All the fuzzy details, like the black dress and the losing track of her, it all collapsed. In his mind he saw the truth.

Isabelle was still there, but she was dressed in a striking, all black outfit that blended with the setting gray of the night. Only the pale complexion of her face and arms had really stood out. She was sporting black leather and jeans like gear. He could faintly see the black runes all on her bear arms, like Jonathan sported at times. She had seen him, and been surprised he was looking at her, but she just smiled.

Then she'd walked a little ways, gotten in the turtle pond, made her way splashing to center, and then fell into the water. He wasn't standing far from where she'd disappeared, so he'd seen it all. But the disappearing act was clearly not the concern, the concern would be the marks on her arms.

As he sat there in the café he relived a lot of moments with Izzy. How she would wear clothes that showed him absolutely nothing on some days, and on other days she would wear tank tops. He thought about those days, and saw the white flecks of scars on her arms that he hadn't noticed before. He re-saw everything, all the secrets that had been hiding in plain sight. Why she'd been so shocked the first time he'd seen her and talked to her. Why she was so reluctant to talk about herself. He understood it all, and he nearly wished he hadn't.

Isabelle was a shadowhunter, a member of the very race Clary and Jonathan, and consequently himself, were trying to bring down. Up until this moment, Simon had believed he would become capable of saving everyone he loved, but that was no longer true. Despite all she'd lied about, Simon couldn't say he didn't still her love her, he did. But Isabelle was not a human he could find and save from his best friend and her other half. No. Isabelle was a shadowhunter, and if Simon knew anything at this point, it was that there was no saving a shadowhunter.


	39. Chapter 39

"What if you had been wrong?"

"I know, alright? It was risky and it could have killed her but it didn't. I did what I had to."

"Jace come on, Hodge is right, you should have-" A door slammed, and someone sigh.

"She will wake up, when she does give her this."

Silence.

Clary was more than grateful that they had finally stopped talking. She had recognized two voices. Jace and Alexander Lightwood. The other had been older, probably Hodge. Clary couldn't hear anyone breathing, so she opened her eyes. An infirmary. She was finally in the institute. They probably wouldn't bother her for a couple days, she imagined that was how long an average Nephilim would be out for.

There was nothing for her to do. She had ample time in here, and she was perfectly healthy. Which meant she was bored. She reached for her cell phone, thanking her lucky stars she had shoved it in her pocket after the phony call with Jocelyn. She needed to know how everything was going.

C: how's mother dearest?

J: sleeping

C: what they're letting her sleep?

J: no. she took something. can't wake her up &amp; Val is pissed.

Just like Jocelyn to be overly prepared. Clary resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room.

C: how the fuck are we supposed to find the cup then

J: don't know. Jo have any friends who would know anything?

C: no

I can't believe this

The bitch is still winning

J: she's not winning anything. Val will find the cup

C: if shes useless there's no reason to keep her alive

J: maybe you're right

Clary was about to shove her phone back in her pocket, until she noticed an unread message. She had been in a hurry to talk to Jonathan, the earlier notification on her phone had been ignored. It had been from Simon.

S: hope you get this we need to talk

Cryptic. He had probably been worried the shadowhunters may have taken the phone from her.

C: sorry I didn't get this sooner what's going on

S: there's been a development...

C: stop stalling Si it's really me now tell me what's going on

S: it's about Isabelle

she's a shadowhunter clary

Clary had never been so completely caught off guard in her entire life. How could she possibly not have put it together? Now that Clary had been told, all the pieces fell right into place. Isabelle Kelley was Isabelle Lightwood. Isabelle had lied about who she was the whole time, been absent in the days after Robert Lightwood had passed, dressed like a prude around Simon's friends - likely to cover up the marks in case anyone Simon knew could See, like he must have been able to to some extent even back then or he would not have met Isabelle in the first place.

Clary laid on the bed awestruck, wondering how she managed to miss Isabelle all this time. How had she not caught even one glimpse of the shadowhunter girl in her true element? It was too unrealistic. Even worse, she should have known something was off about her! Well, she had. But Clary had simply assumed Isabelle Kelley was doing coke or had some weird shit going on that maybe Simon didn't feel comfortable discussing or maybe didn't know about. She'd also just assumed the girl was a goth, she hadn't imagined the clothes were about strategy. But that was no excuse. Especially after she found out Isabelle was a liar, she should have put it together.

Nothing should ever surprise her like this development did. It meant she was blinded to her surroundings, the most dangerous thing to be. Telling themselves stories to fit the strange things they see was what mundanes did. Clary was ashamed she of all people had fallen to that kind of thing. Her instincts about Isabelle had been right, and she'd had ignored them. Another message interrupted her scolding of herself.

S: I gotta admit i'm nervous to ask you this but what're you thinking of doing clary

Clary groaned out loud. She knew what Simon was saying. _You can't kill her Clary I still love her _was what he had really said. This was not good. She didn't want to be cruel to Simon, but she couldn't deal with this kind of complication. This had to be Simon's responsibility somehow.

C: I know you're worried about her &amp; i'm telling you right now i'm not gonna hurt her but that isn't a lasting promise

S: what's that supposed to mean

C: it means you have to chose a side

S: i already have you know that

C: then you have to get her to see it before our side sends the side she stands on to hell

S: how am I supposed to do that

C: idk. for now as long as you stick to our plan you can do whatever you want w/ isabelle as long as it doesn't jeopardize me but eventually were starting this war Si &amp; when we do it's your problem which side she stands on

&amp; Si if it's the wrong one I will take her out. I'll have to.

For a few minutes Simon didn't answer, and she started to worry that he wouldn't. But then the message came.

S: I understand

And that was it. Isabelle was Simon's issue and his only. He knew what was at stake here and he was still with Clary. She thought it had to be some unnatural luck of the universe that she got to keep Simon through everything. It had to be.

Clary started to put her cell phone in her pocket, and then in a moment of better thought tucked it in her bra. It was good timing too, because not ten minutes afterward she heard voices coming closer to her room, and resumed fake unconsciousness.

"I just wanna see the girl alright?" said a voice Clary now recognized as Isabelle's from the hall. Then the door opened, and there was a scuff. Someone had stopped in their tracks.

"Clary?" Isabelle breathed in quiet disbelief.

_So_, Clary thought, _she didn't know._

"You know her?" Alec asked.

There was a pause. "No. No, how would I know her?" she asked in a slightly unhinged voice.

Alec sigh in annoyance. Then the sound of footsteps made their way to Clary.

"Jace says someone needs to change her clothes and burn them, since you're the girl here I'm gonna assume that's your job," said Alec.

About twenty five minutes later Clary was in a new set of clothes she assumed were Isabelle's. It was a miracle she hadn't seen Clary's phone or taken her underwear. That would have been bad for all sorts of reasons. It was only after she was changed that Isabelle started talking to her.

"You're probably gonna have an ear full for me when you wake up. Wow. I have to admit I never saw this one coming. When they said a redhead I didn't imagine... Damn Clary I really hope you don't rat me out. I know we aren't girl friends or anything but I just," she paused to sigh, "hopefully when you wake up you can let me explain. Please Clary if you can hear me or anything just let me explain first."

It was silent for a long while before Isabelle stood up and left the room. Clary reopened her eyes. She didn't care how long a normal shadowhunter took to recuperate, she was waking up tomorrow.

It was hard to tell the difference between dreams and sleeping-memories. But something about the quality of her surroundings told Clary this was a memory. She was in Jocelyn's arms and standing in a snowy doorway. The world around her was big, which meant she must have been small. Jocelyn had tears in her eyes, but she only knocked softly on the door a couple times. It was an odd looking man who answered. Clary felt her younger self smiling at the sight of his cat-like eyes.

"Who are you?" asked the man in Clary's mind.

"I am- I was Jocelyn Morgenstern."

"I don't remember ordering the bride of an evil maniac." The words were messy and slurred to Clary, her younger self clearly could not understand them. But the Clary who was consciously re experiencing this was straining to understand, so she did. "It was definitely beef and broccoli," said the strange man, "what about you Tessa? Did you order the bride of an evil maniac?"

The woman who was called Tessa made a blurry appearance from behind the door. Brown hair and a young frame.

"I have come here, Magnus Bane," said Clary's mother, "to beg your aid."

"Let me think, no" said Magnus, who Clary was beginning to like.

"Let her in Magnus," Tessa's soft voice ordered from inside the house.

"Seriously?" the cat eyed man asked his companion.

"I want to speak with her," came the reply.

Someone made an entrance behind Clary, and suddenly there was food, but those details were just too fuzzy around the edges for the older Clary to pay mind to. Then they were inside the house. Cute was the only impression that could be had from Clary's toddler self.

"You have a baby." That statement was Magnus'.

Jocelyn pulled her closer, and Clary's small form squirmed uncomfortably. She remembered being in those arms, unhappy experiences even back then. The woman called Tessa was suddenly very close to them. Soft skin and grey eyes. Clary wanted to go towards her. Her small figure attempting to reach for the woman, and then being pulled back.

"Jocelyn Fairchild. Descended from Henry Branwell and Charlotte Fairchild."

"That's right," said Clary's mother's uneasy voice.

"I knew them, you see," said the woman. "You have a great look of Henry."

The older version of Clary suddenly understood why she wanted near the woman. Warlock. Child of Demons. Kin.

"You knew them? Then you must be... Are you a warlock too then?" Judgement entered Jo's voice.

Small Clary squirmed some more. Clary was almost proud of her younger self.

"I am. I am Theresa Gray. Daughter of a Greater Demon and Elizabeth Gray, who was born Adele Starkweather, one of your kind. I was the wife of William Herondale, who was the head of the London Institute, and I was the mother of James and Lucie Herondale. Will and I raised our shadowhunter children to protect mundanes, to live by the Laws of Clave and Covenant, and to keep the Accords. Once, I lived among the shadowhunters, once I might have almost seemed like a person to you."

While the younger version of herself still squirmed for the woman, the elder felt as if she had been dream-slapped. She wasn't sure how to feel about this beautiful grey eyed woman standing in front of her. She was part warlock, who Clary felt connected to, but she was also Nephilim, which Clary was set to destroy. This wasn't right. All demon spawn were supposed to be content in the world Clary wanted to create, but Tessa may not be. Tessa may be a problem someday. But despite the warring emotions the elder of Clary's consciousness was feeling, the younger's memory continued.

"I understand if you find my crimes against downworlders unforgivable, but I- I have no where else to go. And I need help. My daughter needs your help. She is a Shadowhunter and Valentine's daughter. She cannot live among her own kind. We can never go back. I need a spell to shield her eyes from all but the mundane world. She can grow up safe and happy in the mundane world. She never needs to know what her father was... or what her mother did."

"So you come begging to us, the monsters," said Magnus.

"I have no quarrel with Downworlders. I ... My best friend is a Downworlder, and I do not believe he is so changed from the person I always loved. I was wrong. I'll have to live forever with what I did. But please, my daughter did n- my daughter needs help."

_There it is_, the dreaming Clary thought sinisterly.

But baby Clary became distracted. Her memories swirled towards the walls and the cat over in the corner and the mess of all the stuff lying around the room she could see and the words the elder of herself really would have liked to of heard and remembered became background noise until, "May I hold her?" which came from Tessa. And somehow she was in Tessa's arms, looking up into her strange grey eyes. And then Tessa's face contorted.

"This child..." she murmured.

"Clarissa, well ... Clary" Jocelyn supplied.

Everywhere in Clary's memory was Tessa's grey eyes staring at her.

"There is something you are not telling us Jocelyn Fairchild," said Tessa at last.

Jo nearly whimpered. "What did you see?" she asked Tessa in a small voice.

"There was something in the child's eyes, something about her is ... not right," the woman answered. Meanwhile toddler Clary was playing with Tessa's fingers. The elder of herself was beginning to get distracted with memories of hands. Clary scolded her child attention span for missing important bits of this conversation. But then Tessa set her down, and, not being interested in anything else, her child form sat on the floor beneath them.

"What Valentine did to m-my son- my late son, I knew something was wrong with him immediately. From the moment I held him I- I couldn't bear to look at him or be around him. I couldn't love him. You can't understand what that feels like, to hold a monster in your arms that you are told is your child. He was not my child, not ever."

"You might have a chat with my late parents, I imagine you'll get along swimmingly," said Magnus bitterly.

"No- no please don't assume I am likening what Jonathan was to what you are. I-I may have seen it to be similar in the past but now, he was not anything like you."

"We know that, we do not need a Nephilim to tell us we are not demons," Magnus informed her.

"What we do require," inserted Tessa, "is for you to explain the purpose of what you have told us, and what is wrong with this child- the one that is, forgive me for being cruel, still alive."

"It was after my son was turned into a monster that I truly began to hate Valentine. I discovered what he had done, I planned to leave, aided in the uprising, and I managed to flee him. But I was pregnant again, and he knew. Before I left he knew and as much as I tried to prevent it I-I was weak. I could not starve, I could not avoid it. But I tried to fix it. I complained more, I tried to make it clear to Valentine how much I was hurting. And, I believe, he somehow used the blood of angels to aid me. I don't know where he acquired it from, and I'm not sure I'd want to. But regardless, it made the pregnancy much more bearable than the first. Clary is not pure evil as my son was, she has a chance."

Tessa and Magnus were now looking at Jocelyn with pity, like her last words had been nothing more than a hollow plea to fool herself.

"Jocelyn Fairchild, you have endured much torment and I feel for you, truly we both do, but-" Tessa tried.

"But you don't believe that Clary is any different from my son. You imagine I am desperate to believe Clary has a chance because I cannot bear to lose another child to evil. Perhaps you are right, but look at her."

Tessa and Magnus both looked down at Clary and Jocelyn continued. "Can't you see her? Her eyes are green as a spring day, her hair an orange blossom. She is light. She is my angel. You cannot tell me you do not see her light."

It took a moment for either warlock to speak, but it was Tessa who finally did. "Her light is not lost on me Fairchild, but neither is her darkness. Her two natures will war with each other as she grows, and I fear that perhaps her light will not win."

Jocelyn looked betrayed, remaining silent.

Magnus sigh. "Regardless of all this, I'm not sure what you expect me to do for you or your hybrid-blooded child," he said.

"I've already told you," Jo snapped but then calmed herself. "I need you to blind her from all of this. If she grows up safe and happy, perhaps... perhaps her light will remain," she said looking at Tessa.

Tessa looked sadly at Magnus, who said, "so you want me to tear away an essential part of who your child is just so she will grow up with a two percent less chance of becoming an abomination? Sure I could do that, if you'd rather her grow up mad."

It took Clary's mother a moment to be capable of speech. "So there is nothing you can do for her then?"

Magnus softened some. "If she were a normal Nephilim child, I would say there might be something else I could try. But ... but I doubt it would work now. I am not sure of how much you know about the properties of demon blood- essentially that of a Greater Demon- but the boost I imagine it could give would be quite something. You said your husband did this to your children because he wanted soldiers, so clearly he understood. The blood likely adds agility, and strength, more so than even Nephilim blood, and should be able to aid substantially one's ability to heal and to correct the mind. Combine that with the effects of pure additional angel blood, and there is simply no telling. The spell I would attempt to cast on your child's mind may have an effect for a short while, a very short while, but even with continued visits the effects will simply wear off too quickly for it to be of any worth," Magnus attempted to explain.

Jocelyn looked to be in despair.

"I'm sorry," said Tessa quietly.

"No no I ... I understand. I just hoped. I had hoped she would be born without the Sight, like some are and must be taught, but I saw her this morning messing with a faerie, she nearly hurt it trying to get it out of its hedge. But I should not have been surprised, just as I should not be now. I've never had much luck with hope," Jocelyn told them, and then picked Clary up.

"Wait," Tessa said. Magnus looked at her curiously.

"You said your child has a chance. You should give her the best chance. She should have the ceremony. She must be protected from any further influence towards darkness," Tessa told her looking at Magnus, "Magnus and I will perform it, we know a silent brother who will help if you are willing."

"Thank you, Tessa Gray," said Jocelyn.

"Well then, it seems we are going to help you Jocelyn Morgenstern," said Magnus.

"Don't call me that. I'm a Fairchild."

"I thought you weren't a shadowhunter anymore. If you don't want them to find you, changing your name seems like a fairly elementary step. Trust me, I'm an expert. I've watched a lot of spy movies. I was not born with the name Magnus Bane, I came up with that one all on my own."

"I actually was born Tessa Gray," said Tessa, "but you should choose whatever name seems right to you. I've always said there is a great deal of power in words, and that means names too. A name you choose for yourself could tell you the story of what your destiny will be, and who you intend to become."

"Call me Fray. Let me join together the names of the Fairchilds, my lost family, and the Grays. Because you are ... a family friend."

Tessa smiled.

"Jocelyn and Clary Fray," Magnus said, "it's nice to meet you."

Clary had been still for a while, watching the memory unfold, but now she slammed back into consciousness. She lay there with her eyes still closed, thinking of all she had learned during her dream. So many questions she'd never known to ask, along with their answers, locked inside her very own mind. The information was overwhelming.

The most important, though, was perhaps the simplest. Jocelyn did have friends. Friends she had perhaps kept in touch with, friends who perhaps she had trusted with where the Cup was. A part of Clary told her to leave Tessa out of things. She was a wild card, could not be understood, could not be placed completely on one side. Best to avoid her for as long as possible. Clary knew where to go looking for information about her sleeping beauty of a mother now, she had to find Magnus Bane. And worse, she had to fool him into believing the light had won.

Eventually Clary did what she said she would and woke up. At what she gauged to be about two in the afternoon, she started stirring. Jace immediately left the room, and Isabelle took the chair closest to her. There was one other set of lungs in the room besides hers and her model-like foe-friend.

Ten minutes later Clary opened her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but didn't let a word out before she zoned in on Isabelle's face and let her eyes fly wide.

"Thought you might of died in your sleep," said a voice that sounded like Isabelle but belonged to a different version of her. This was the persona of Isabelle-the-shadowhuntress, but her wide pleading eyes belonged to the girl she knew as Isabelle Kelley.

"Sorry to disappoint. What is this place?" Clary responded.

Isabelle seemed to visibly relax, a silent thank you passing between them.

"Welcome to the Institute."


	40. Chapter 40

"The institute?"

"Yes, you're in the infirmary. I'm surprised Jace hasn't spilled all our trade secrets to you yet. This is where we live and train," Isabelle confided in her. Alec, clearly uninterested in the welcome mat, left the room.

"Yeah well, we didn't have much time for chit chat," Clary responded, giving Isabelle an icy look before her stomach growled.

"Oh that reminds me: Hodge said to give you this when you woke up." Isabelle then handed Clary a ceramic cup filled with cloudy liquid. Isabelle said something about how long it had been since she'd eaten, but Clary was already consuming the rich, dark liquid.

"No need to stall," Clary said when she finished,."I think an explanation is in order, don't you?"

Isabelle's eyes widened in slight alarm, and she stood up and closed the door Alec had left open. She then turned back to Clary, looking resigned, and said, "what do you want to know?"

"I wanna know who you actually are and why you would lie to Simon and hurt him the way you did," Clary responded, adding a slight girlish-whine to her voice.

"Hurt him? I never hurt Simon," said Isabelle, looking offended.

"Not physically. But he found out you were a liar and he's really hurt," came the reply.

"He found out- what did he find out, when, how?" Isabelle asked somewhat distressed.

"He said he went over to see your _parents _and your _mom _told him you were just an elaborate lie."

Isabelle looked horrified, and angry. "That's why he hasn't been answering my calls or texts..." she trailed off.

"Hey," Clary snapped, "you're the one who's supposed to be giving me answers here."

"I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what you're expecting from me Clary. I never wanted to hurt Simon, I should never have gotten involved with him in the first place. I just ... messed up. I had no business being around him of any other mundane ever. I don't even know how I let it happen. If I could go back I..." she didn't finish, so Clary felt the need to do so for her.

"You'd erase him? Is that what you would do? You don't love him at all."

"No! I mean yes I mean- I care about Simon a lot I really do. He's sweet and he's safe and his life seemed so simple and I guess I let myself get close to him after we had met because I wanted to be a part of something simple. You have to understand, we should never have, met I mean. He shouldn't of seen me, shouldn't have been able to see me. It was at night, and I was glamoured, but somehow he saw me. He saw me and he smiled at me and I thought I'd never come across him again so I just smiled back but then the next time I went to the faeries he was there again and suddenly he was talking to me and I just got sucked in like- like in some other life somewhere far away I knew him. And from there, I don't know what happened from there. But I blinked and somehow I was dating him and then I had to lie because he was a mundane and then I cared about him and I was lying to protect him. Then a year had gone by and then two and he still had no idea who I was and I still didn't have any idea what the hell I was doing or why I was doing it or anything and I just don't know how else to explain." She finally stopped and took a breath.

"Slow down. You're saying you were invisible like the others were when I saw them, but Simon saw you. What does that mean for Simon? And faeries? And why is Simon being a _mundane _reason enough to lie to him or stay away from him or whatever. What does that even imply?" Clary asked all at once. She couldn't start acting like she knew things until Isabelle or one of the others told her, so pulling information out of them was the only way.

Isabelle looked at her for a moment. "Faeries or fairies are a part of downworld, like a vampire or a werewolf or a warlock. And I don't know exactly what that means for Simon, it means he might have been exposed to the shadow world when he was very young but not since so his mind might have only seen things half as they were. That would be the only explanation I could imagine. But that doesn't change the fact that he's a mundane. A normal human, not born special or anything like that. There is nothing wrong with mundanes, they just are not us," she explained.

"So you think you're above us?" Clary supplied, letting attitude coat her voice. Clary hated shadowhunters because of their history, because of all that they had done in the selfish name of an angel who couldn't be bothered to even prove his existence to them. But shadowhunters themselves were just prejudice. What had the majority of downworld ever done besides attempt to defend themselves? Sure, there were rogues - quite a bit of them, who Clary admired - but for the most part they weren't naturally aggressive people, except maybe vampires, without reason. Regardless, shadowhunters were zealots, and Isabelle was in the process of reminding Clary exactly what ingrained attitude she possessed.

"You may not be a mundane, at least Jace doesn't think you are. But yes, we are more than mundane, by definition we are above them. And the idea of being romantically involved with a mundane is little more than treacherous, it's definitely worse than being involved with a downworlder. Shadowhunters and mundanes are separate. It's just how it is," Isabelle informed Clary coldly.

"So you care about Simon, but you aren't interested in him. You just think you're better than him so you aren't invested in your own relationship that spans years?! That's the most unfair, ridiculous, horrible thing I've ever heard! He loves you and you what? Just like that he loves you?" Clary was nearly yelling now, not in the way she normally would, in the whiny way her fake persona would. But her anger was genuine. Not breaking Isabelle's jaw was perhaps the hardest thing she'd ever done, and Isabelle was only looking at her with thinly veiled malice and annoyance.

"I don't know why I let it go on okay! I should have broke things off with him a long time ago. I never meant for him to fall in love with me! When he told me he loved me I said it back because he's not even seventeen! I didn't think it was that big of a deal or that he was even serious and I didn't want him to feel bad! I've done nothing to make him love me, I'm as nice as I can be to him and I kiss him but come on we've never even had sex! You'd think after a couple years a guy would get impatient and bail, it's not my fault he never did!" Isabelle was breathing like she just ran a marathon, apparently it was a struggle for her to not hit Clary too. It's a good thing she didn't, because Clary didn't think her cover could survive Isabelle's sudden death. Or her friendship with Simon for that matter. Even so, it took her a minute to get control of herself before she could even form words.

"Well sorry to break this to you bitch," _oops vocabulary slip, oh well_, she thought to herself. "Simons a part of my life. And apparently I'm a part of this. So you're not just gonna be able to end your _relationship _via infinite radio silence. And you better end your relationship. You will not get your hooks any deeper into him got it?!"

Isabelle was dumbfounded. No one ever spoke to her like that. Everyone always had the good sense to be intimidated by her, but Clary was apparently an exception. No wonder Jace had taken an interest in her, must have seen her fire. So all Isabelle said was, "fine. If I ever see him again I'll tell him it's over, but you can't just bring a mundie into this. Simon has no business here around any of us." Then she stood up and left the room, leaving a very annoyed Clary behind.

Clary sat there for a while trying to resist the urge to call Jonathan and hear his voice tell her that one day Isabelle Lightwood would be dead if that was what she decided. But even if he told her that, it might not even be true. Simon still had final say, in a way. Hopefully she could _accidentally _get Simon involved at some point soon, so Isabelle could break his heart and she would be permanently removed from the no-kill zone. If only Clary could be so lucky. She might just have to take matters into her own hands. No way she would jeopardize her plan for a girl who didn't even love Simon back.

As it was, Isabelle soon returned. Presumably after she had cooled off. She didn't seem like the type of person who liked to let emotion get the best of her. This was confirmed when she came in stone-faced, and started with, "Jace said you killed that demon."

Clary, somewhat cooled off herself and back in character decided just to say, "I guess I did."

Isabelle apparently took that as a go-ahead, and returned to the chair next to Clary's nurse bed. It was obvious Isabelle had more she wanted said, but wasn't willing to just spit it out.

"Amazing isn't it," Clary said, allowing girlish sarcasm into her voice.

Slight disgust made a return appearance on Isabelle's face for a moment, before she squashed it.

Instead of letting things escalate as they had, Clary asked, "where is Jace by the way? Is he around?"

Isabelle shrugged. "Somewhere, I should go tell everyone you're up, in case they didn't already hear us screaming at each other. You better hope they didn't, you and I being previously acquainted won't be good for either of us, trust me on that. But especially not me. Either way, Hodge'll want to talk to you."

"Hodge is?" asked Clary.

"Hodge tutors us all," she told her before adding. "The bathroom's through there by the way, and I hung some of my old clothes on the towel rack in case you want to change again."

"What happened to my own clothes?" asked Clary.

"They were covered in blood and poison. Jace burned them," Isabelle said that with just a little too much enjoyment, as if lighting Clary's clothes on fire was her new dream.

"Did he?" asked Clary, not bothering to disguise her natural annoyance. "Tell me, is he always really rude, or does he save that for _mundanes_?"

"Oh, he's rude to everyone," said Isabelle. "It's what makes him so damn sexy. That, and he's killed more demons than anyone else his age." Clary couldn't decide if Isabelle was trying to bait her or not. She could probably assume just as well as the next girl that someone like she thought Clary was would definitely be interested in Jace. Or maybe Clary was just searching for an excuse to give Isabelle an untimely death that she could justify with all involved, however unlikely. So Clary just looked at her, allowing a perplexed expression to cross her face. "Isn't he your brother?" she asked, because it was what a normal girl would probably assume. Also, it would put Isabelle off of whatever she was getting at with the sexy comment.

And it did. It got Isabelle's genuine attention. She laughed out loud. "Jace? My brother? No. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, he lives here with you," Clary pointed out. "Doesn't he?"

Isabelle nodded. "Well, yes, but…"

"Why doesn't he live with his own parents?" This was good. Clary was proud of herself, be the average annoying twenty-questions girl. This was the first step to Isabelle trusting this version of her again. She'd let herself get just a little too violently opinionated before to match what she was trying to make the Nephilim believe. This would fix it.

Isabelle looked a little uncomfortable for a moment."Because they're dead," was the flat response.

Clary let her mouth pop open in surprise. "Did they die in an accident?"

"No." Isabelle fidgeted, pushing a dark lock of hair behind her left ear. "His mother died when he was born. His father was murdered when he was ten. Jace saw the whole thing."

"Oh," Clary said, her voice going small, the way it had been in the club when she'd played the poor victim girl to Jace and Alec. "Was it… demons?" she asked, thinking Jonathan would probably laugh if he saw this. She nearly smiled and blew the whole thing.

Isabelle got to her feet again. "Look, I'd better let everyone know you've woken up. They've been waiting. Oh, and there's soap in the bathroom," she added. "You might want to clean up a little. You smell."

Clary glared at her. "Thanks a lot."

"Any time," she said on her way to the door. But she stopped and turned back right before she opened it. Apparently preparing herself to finally say what she had returned to say. "Oh and Clary. Incase I didn't make this clear. From this moment you never knew me, we never knew each other before just right now when we met for the first time. And if somehow you manage to get Simon involved with anything, that applies to him too and I will tell him that myself if I have to. I never meant to hurt him, but I will not risk everything I have and everything I am for the likes of you two. I never set out to make a bitch of myself, but I have a mandate, one that I care about. Hopefully one day at least you will come to understand that." With that, she opened the door and left.

As soon as Clary was safely inside the bathroom with the shower running, she took out her cell phone and proceeded to give Simon a piece of Isabelle's mind. It sucked, but it had to be done.


	41. Chapter 41

The phone kept going off, and Simon was nearly unable to handle much more. After the first four sections of Clary's long-winded text about her conversations with Isabelle, Simon had put down the phone and stopped reading. Many emotions were swirling in his mind, including heartbreak, annoyance, and - for the most part - anger. Isabelle saying that she never loved him and that she wouldn't risk anything for him was among the most hurtful things he could have predicted, yet it had apparently happened. Nothing about Isabelle had ever been real.

It was emotionally intense moments like these that he felt the blood calling out to him the most. _Find your sire,_ it told him, _find Raphael, become what you are meant to be. _And he wanted to, more than anything. He would follow the bloods call right now if he could, but Clary had told him that it simply was not the right time yet. The plan came first, then he could have his rightful strength. Simon dreamed about it often, what it would be like. How he would be fast, strong- how he would want blood at all time. And lately, more than ever, he was excited for it. With every portion of text Clary sent, he wanted to leave even more. He had to make it stop.

S: Clary I don't want to hear this anymore

C: I'm just telling you the truth Si I think you deserve to know how she feels

S: I knew how she felt after the first few texts &amp; it's gonna make me do something stupid if you don't stop twisting the knife

C: there's nothing you can do Si

S: I can find my sire &amp; stop feeling embarrassed

C: you can once I find a way to get you in then we can stage it just be patient

S: it's in my head Clary it's screaming at me &amp; every time I get angry I just want to go

C: okay just leave it to me alright I just have to get these people comfortable with me first &amp; then I'll tell you what to do

you'll get through this

Clary received no reply. She felt dense. She should have been all too aware of the vampire blood in Simon's veins. Sure, it was a little surprising that Simon was feeling the difference so soon after he'd been infected. But Simon was somewhat of a special circumstance. It was rare as it was for a human to escape the vampires once they'd been exposed to the blood, and beyond that Simon had more reason to harbor animosity than your average Joe. But Clary still thought she should have been focused on it, instead of focusing on the Isabelle dilemma when it was useless anyways. Simon's vampirism was the solution. Once he was a vampire, he'd be more prone to the dark side naturally, and if she could get into his head, she might make his love for Isabelle lessen.

Clary knew of many vampires who had gone off the rails due to their nature. And by her's and Jonathan's side, Simon had the potential to be the most important vampire in the world someday. Hell, he was already on track. He'd made leaps and bounds towards the right side since Clary had returned home. Went from being the righteous good boy to being committed to an apocalypse and its showrunners. That was progress if there ever was. Being a vampire, adding even more potential, was just what he needed. All Clary had to do was pave the way while maintaining the plan. She needed to add her _harmless human friend_ to the shadowhunters' must-protect list. But she would have to get to that later, first she needed to get to Magnus Bane, and she needed the shadowhunters to do it.

Not being able to simply walk up to Hodge and demand he tell her where Magnus was, was definitely an inconvenience. Sure, he would know how she knew that name, but the rest of them couldn't. No use blowing both of their covers. This would have to be handled delicately, and the easiest way to do that was using Jace. So when she left the bathroom, clean and in Isabelle's ridiculous oversized clothing, she went straight to find him. It was the sound of a piano that made Jace none to difficult to locate.

He was seated at the grand piano, his hands moving rapidly over the keys. He was barefoot, dressed in jeans and a grey T-shirt. Clary watched the quick, sure movements of his hands for a moment, marveling at the wasted hours it must have taken to master an instrument. _How trivial,_ she thought, _he'll never have a use for that._

She made no noise, but he twisted around on the stool, blinking into the shadows. "Alec?" he said. "Is that you?"

"It's not Alec. It's me." She stepped farther into the room. "Clary."

Piano keys jangled as he got to his feet. "Our own Sleeping Beauty. Who finally kissed you awake?"

Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Isabelle, but she went off to get someone- Hodge, I think. She told me to wait, but-"

"Are those Isabelle's clothes? They look ridiculous on you," he interrupted, making Clary want to do more than simply roll her eyes.

"I could point out that you burned my clothes," was the only reply she decided to make.

"It was purely precautionary." He slid the gleaming black piano cover closed. "Come on, I'll take you to Hodge."

_Finally,_ she thought. _Golden boy's gonna do something useful_. She needed to get this show on the road.


	42. Chapter 42

Hodge wasn't good at undercover. Or perhaps he had been, up until the exact moment Clary and Jace entered the library. Now he couldn't stop staring at Clary. The others hadn't noticed yet, except maybe Jace. Then again, he looked suspicious most of the time, so maybe she shouldn't be concerned. Either way, Clary was battling the urge to slap the open-examination off of Hodge's face. _Yes you idiot, I'm the inside man you were expecting, it might be a good idea to stop fucking staring at me,_ she wanted to tell him, but she settled for attempting to convey it with her eyes. Eventually, he made eye contact with her, and seemed to snap out of it.

"Not much of a book lover, are we?" he asked in greeting, smiling at Clary with a bit too much hesitation. "You didn't tell me that, Jace."

Jace chuckled. Clary could tell that he had come up behind her and was standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning. "We haven't done much talking during our short acquaintance," he said.

_Oh yeah_, Clary thought sarcastically, _not much talking at all. Just enough for you to tell me your entire life story complete with details about your home country and everyone you consider family. Not much talking at all._ But she also considered that particular chat useful, so she only smiled sheepishly.

"How can you tell?" she asked Hodge. "That I don't care for books, I mean."

"The look on your face when you walked in," he said, standing up and coming around from behind the desk. "I guess I hoped you were not that uninterested in me." He stood up and Clary did a quick examination of how useful he would be. At first glance he might have appeared strangely misshapen, his left shoulder humped and higher than the other. But she recognized that the hunch was actually a bird, perched neatly on his shoulder- a glossy feathered creature with bright black eyes. Clary's interest peeked, a raven was among the few creatures she might admire, evil little things.

"This is Hugo," Hodge said, touching the bird on his shoulder. "Hugo is a raven, and, as such, he knows many things. I, meanwhile, am Hodge Starkweather, a professor of history, and, as such, I do not know nearly enough."

Clary forced a small laugh in way of response and shook his outstretched hand. "Clary Fray."

"Honored to make your acquaintance," he said. "I would be honored to make the acquaintance of anyone who could kill a Ravener with her bare hands." Her smile dropped and for a moment she thought he may have just given her away, she cut him with an icy covert glare before she realized he was talking about the other day in her house. Relief that tensing was also the normal response for her cover flooded through her, and her eyes relaxed on him. Thankfully only she noticed that he released a small breath. She was too wired. _Get a grip, you have to be Clary Fray right now. You're not threatening and you don't know these people_, she chastised herself. Apparently she couldn't fault Hodge when she couldn't even keep her own head for five straight minutes. The self-chastisement payed off precisely five seconds later when Alec decided to enlighten Clary to how annoying he actually was.

"You actually buy that she killed that demon Hodge? Look at her. She's a mundie, and a small one at that. There's no way she took on a demon and lived, let alone killed it," Alec informed them.

Clary stared at him, not quite sure how she should respond. Alec stared right back, but his stare became intrusive so she looked away. She couldn't have any of them staring at her eyes too long. "I did actually," she finally said. Just because she was playing helpless girl didn't mean she had to act like she _thought _she was helpless. Some attitude would add personality to her, make her more real to all of them. "I put Jace's cell- thingy down its throat," she told him.

"My sensor. Exactly," said Jace, "and the runes obviously choked it. But she still killed it."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Okay," Jace began, "how do you think it just so happened to die on top of her then?"

"I don't know. Raveners are stupid, probably stabbed itself or something," he suggested, waving his hand.

"You're suggesting it committed suicide?" Hodge replied.

Alec's mouth tightened. "It isn't right for her to be here. Mundies aren't allowed in the Institute, and there are good reasons for that. If anyone knew about this, we could be reported to the Clave."

"That's not entirely true," Hodge said. "The Law does allow us to offer sanctuary to mundanes in certain circumstances. Also, you yourself have informed me that Jace has a few thoughts regarding Clary's mundane status. Either way, a Ravener has already attacked Clary's mother- she could well have been next."

"I do," Jace cut in, "have a few _thoughts_. She's not a mundane. I marked her," he caught a glimpse of Hodge's face between his words, "yeah yeah I know it was stupid Izzy told me so a million times and I already explained myself so you can get on my case later, the point is it's done. And it worked. Didn't hurt her at all. Plus, there would be no reason for anyone or anything to send a Ravener or anything else after Clary's mom if she was just your average mundane and you both know that."

"But she is," Clary cut in. "My mother is totally normal. There's nothing special about her, and I don't think there's anything special about me either. My mom and me have nothing to do with anything," she told them, talking as if she were trying to convince them. It was what a normal girl would do. "It has to be a mistake," she continued. "We live next door to a witch. That thing was probably after her and whoever took my mom just made a mistake."

"A witch?" That came from Hodge.

"No, not a witch," said Jace. "A fake. I checked it out. This definitely wasn't a mistake." He turned to Clary. "You have Clave blood, or the Mark would have- it wouldn't of worked just leave it at that. One or both parents have to of been Nephilim. You say your mom isn't so what about your dad?"

Clary, thankfully, was ready for this line of questioning. "My dad died years back. Some men broke in and, well, he didn't make it. I was there." She looked down, but not before she caught Jace's slight flinch. _Right_, she remembered. _Valentine and his theatrics._

"So we're back to where we started," Hodge said. "Tell me, is there anyone you could contact about your mother? Someone who might know why she was taken or have any other information?"

"Does this mean you all are going to help me find her?" asked Clary in an unsure voice.

"For now we simply want to know who you are and what familial connection you have with Nephilim. But I'd imagine each of us have no problem helping you locate your mother," he said as he looked at each teenage warrior in the room. Isabelle, not shockingly, remained quiet. Alec unpleasantly rolled his eyes but made no protest. Jace only nodded curtly. Clary was pleased at how easily this was all going. Hopefully soon they'd lead her right to information about the Cup and never know a thing. Hodge looked at her expectantly.

"Well um... my mother didn't really have friends really. The only person she had in her life that I knew of was my dad, before he died. After that she kind of ... kept to herself. Just me and her you know? But my uh Dad, he owned a bookstore when he was alive. I'm sure no one has touched it it's kind of out of the way. If he knew anything about my mom's past it might be there," she told them all carefully, trying not to appear too eager.

Jace, thankfully, bought right into it. "Sure we could check it out. Couldn't hurt right?" That question being directed at Hodge.

"I suppose not. If you're going to do so, I suggest the sooner the better. I will, obviously, stay here and notify the Clave of Clary's presence and what has occurred. Try to inform her of some things would you Jace? This is all quite new," he finished, making eye contact with Clary. He seemed to tell her good luck. For a moment she wondered what, if anything, he would actually tell the Clave, and if not telling them anything was in fact the best way to go. Then she silenced her mind, and refocused on the task at hand.


	43. Chapter 43

Using the portal was always an interesting experience for Clary, the sensation of falling in a strange direction made her feel like she was untethered to anything the first time, and every time since. Interesting, if not enjoyable. She hit the ground before Jace, so she was able to stop herself with her full strength without worrying if he had noticed. He, on the other hand, smacked the ground. Hard. But he seemed to shake it off pretty easily.

"Sorry about that," Jace said just slightly short of breath. "Can knock you around pretty hard. That's why it's not really for the untrained. You seem to be okay though."

"That's relative," Clary claimed, feigning some level of pain.

Jace nodded and helped her up.

Jonathan was here. Clary could feel his presence. While Jace had picked up some weapons in the weapons room Clary had managed to send a couple texts, one to Simon, and one to Jonathan. Simon would eventually be here too, they couldn't all have portals. Jonathan did, and had been planting evidence that would lead the Nephilim to Magnus, and searching for anything that might be real information. Clary, however, doubted that anything useful was actually here. People don't just leave guarded information lying on their work desk. Apparently, this occurred to Jace too.

"So," he asked as they walked toward the dark building, "why do you think something might be here?"

"Well, he spent a lot of time here. If he was ... what you guys are then maybe something here will tell us? I'm not sure exactly, I just figured we could look here or my destroyed house and I opted for here," she told him. He shrugged, which was good. Then they made their way inside, just as Jonathan exited the back way, and Clary felt him get farther and farther away.

Jonathan was in his room at Renwick's when he got Clary's text to go to Lucian's old work place. Normally he would have been watching her, but while she was in the institute, it was kind of pointless. So he had gone back to his dwelling. It was lucky they had a portal there, or he obviously have made it. He didn't have Clary's affinity for runes.

When he entered the space, all he could really smell or breathe was dust. Lucian had been dead for over a decade, and his old book store reflected that. Jonathan ignored all the available-to-public books, and made his way over to the back room. On a desk in the far right corner were some old papers and bills. Amazing that after so long the scent of werewolf still faintly remained near the desk area where Lucian must have spent many days.

The top drawer side drawer seemed a good enough place to plant some evidence of shadow world involvement. Jonathan grabbed a piece of old blank paper from atop the desk, and began forging a letter to Lucian Graymark.

_Lucian,_

_I imagine now that you are reading this you realize what a fool you were to believe you could simply disappear into the sunset with my runaway wife and second child. Surely Jocelyn understands how ridiculous a notion it is, that the three of you could play mundane. Especially not my daughter. She cannot be kept from the shadow world. Not even all the spells the Bane warlock might cast upon her for Jocelyn's sake can blind her to her potential. It is simply a waste of your efforts. And it is truly pathetic that you, Lucian, attempt to take my place in their lives. Do understand, now that I have found the three of you, I cannot allow you to continue living in this fantasy of yours. What you have is mine Lucian, and you cannot protect them or keep them from me._

_-V_

Now, that sort of sounded like his father if anything did. Maybe a little over done. There was no way for anyone to know how quickly Valentine located Jocelyn and Clary, or that it was a short while before Graymark entered the picture. Valentine even let him live happily with Jocelyn for years before he had him killed. Jonathan was not even sure why Valentine decided to kill Lucian, he was in the way somehow he supposed. But it didn't actually matter, it just came in handy right now. This was the perfect way to connect Clary to the shadow world while maintaining her supposed ignorance, and that was what mattered.

Jonathan folded the letter and drew a small Morgenstern seal on the bottom corner of it. Then he reopened it and left it sitting on top of the stack of papers in the drawer, which he left slightly ajar. Jonathan figured when a man receives death threats, he doesn't exactly take the time to put everything in order before rushing home. Everything was arranged as if Lucian had left in a hurry anyway, or perhaps he was just messy.

Now that Bane's name had been planted, and Clary's Nephilim connection explained, Jonathan had a moment to search for any real indication of where the Cup might of been hidden.

But Jonathan's attention soon turned to the excess of paintings all along the walls of the back room. As he examined them, it became clear that they were Jocelyn's. To some mundane, it may have appeared that Jocelyn had talent, but to Jonathan the paintings looked like none-to-special blobs of color. At least true artists had taste, everything Jocelyn painted looked bland.

It was while he was looking at a painting that he heard them arrive. Someone hit the ground gracefully, and a second later another smacked it hard. Jonathan smiled, pushing down the feelings that welled up when he wished he could see and touch Clary but couldn't. He then quickly made his way to the door at the opposite end of the room from the desk and waited until the front door opened to make his exit.

Inside, not a bit of dust was disturbed from Jonathan being here. Clary watched as Jace scanned around, eyes eventually landing on a door to a back room. He nodded his head toward it and walked to it. Clary followed patiently behind. When the door opened, her mother's old, dull paintings were the first thing she noticed. Luke had quite a lot of them. But Jace's attention was on Luke's desk. He made his way to it and began sorting through the old papers sitting on top of it. "Bill, bill, junk," he mumbled to himself as he went through it all. Eventually he stopped. Clary made her way towards him when she heard a drawer creaked open.

"Did you find something?" she asked, then caught a glimpse of an aged looking creased paper in Jace's hands. He was intently reading it, trying to hide that something was surprising him. Then he looked up at her with a strange expression. "Yeah, found something," he told her quietly.

"Well," her voice came out cautious, "what's it say?"

"You're definitely a shadowhunter," he told her. "We have to get this letter to Hodge."

"No wait let me see it!" she demanded.

He slowly handed it to her. She read the words and nearly laughed out loud. There was so much to laugh at, starting with the fact that this letter was so obviously written about five minutes ago with the black pen sitting in a container about six inches away. It was also hilarious because it was mockery. This was Jonathan mocking their father, the way a nine year old would mock their mother in a whiney voice when she said something they didn't like. It was purely Valentine, but purely not. It took everything Clary had to not crack a smile. At the same time, it made her miss Jonathan so much she couldn't breathe for a moment. But it soon passed, and Clary put cautious confusion on her face.

"What does this mean?" she asked slowly. "I don't understand any of this. My father's name was Luke Garroway, and he was killed in a robbery. This- this doesn't make sense." She dropped the letter dramatically and backed up a few feet. Jace bent to pick it up.

"Calm down," he told her. "Hodge can explain this."

"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's just go. I don't want to be in this dead place anymore."

Jace only nodded, and started toward the door. Clary followed suit, knowing Simon had just recently shown up.

When they walked out the door, Clary could hear Simon breathing from behind a nearby bush. Right when she flicked her eyes in that direction, he moved a little, just enough so that Jace would hear him. Clary had the desire to pat Simon on the back, he was doing well. As it was, Jace did indeed stop.

"Did you hear that?" he asked Clary, who looked at him with a scared expression as if there would be a demon hiding in the bushes. Jace took out a small blade and made his way toward where Simon was squatting. Clary stayed back. There was a scuffle, then some yelping - from Simon - and then a sigh that was obviously Jace's.

"What is it?" Clary asked aloud.

"Some nerd," Jace called back.

"Hey!" Simon said, a perfectly nerd-like response. Simon wasn't much of a nerd these days, he was more of a fledgling who'd sold his soul to the dark side, but clearly he understood that Jace needed to have the misconception. A year ago, less than that really, and Jace's assessment would have been true.

"Simon?" Clary asked in supposed shock as she walked over. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?! What are you doing here Clary? And where in the hell have you been? I've been calling you and calling you. I went by your house, Dorothea said hi by the way. But your place is trashed. I was afraid you might be dead." Clary wanted to hand him an Oscar. Instead she just said, "some things have um ... happened," and then looked over at Jace.


	44. Chapter 44

The squealing dweeb was making Jace more irritable by the second. He was standing there, yelling squeakily at Clary for leaving him for a few days. Why she didn't just reach out and slap him was beyond Jace. Okay, actually it wasn't. Clary didn't seem like the type who would slap her friends around for bugging her, and this geekish boy was clearly her friend. Now that he got a good look at him, he realized he'd seen him once before in the coffee shop where he had his first real conversation with Clary. The first one where she wasn't mortifying him with her sobs. Now, the boy called Simon had stopped yelling at Clary.

"Some things have um... happened," she said, and then looked over at Jace himself. Great, time to explain to another mundie that there were things beyond what their eyes could see. Jace sighed inwardly.

After a half hour of, what Simon thought to be, particularly boring and redundant rundown, Jace, Clary, and himself were sitting on the steps of the bookstore. Simon was staring at Clary while Jace, in turn, stared at him.

"I can't believe everything that's happened to you," Simon told Clary quietly, as if he were still shell shocked. "Do you at least have any leads on your mom?"

Clary took that opportunity to look over at Jace before she said, "Maybe, right Jace?"

The more muscled boy looked at Clary and then nodded. "That's why we really should be getting back to Hodge," he responded.

"Hey, you can't just bail on me again," Simon told Clary. "I'm coming with you, I want to help," he said putting on a determined face.

"We don't need to be looking after mundies," said Jace.

"I'm not leaving Simon out of this, I never should have in the first place. He's always been there for me and my mom. He's coming," Clary said in a way that signaled an end to the discussion.

In reply, Jace sigh. Simon was starting to gather that Jace sighing was a good response in Clary's book. It was funny, Jace would back down to her a lot. _I know how that is_ he thought. But then again, Simon actually knew Clary. Jace didn't. That made it all the more interesting, and somewhat entertaining.

It took a while for the three of them to make it back to the institute. And when they did, Isabelle - upon seeing Simon- gave Clary a look that said there would be a very specific kind of hell to pay. Clary just avoided her gaze, privately wishing she could treat Isabelle how she wanted to - which was violently. Simon only stared at her, while Isabelle very pointedly refused to return even a single look. The message was clear: _you don't know me_. Simon, who was obviously hurt by it, didn't betray his turmoil at all. He seemed resigned, as if letting the Isabelle he knew go was something he had prepared himself to do. Clary felt proud of him, but also offended on his behalf at the same time. She quickly boxed away those emotions however, as there were currently more important things to focus on. Mainly getting to Magnus Bane.

Alec didn't know what to believe. He'd taken the note straight out of Jace's hand and read it three times, and was still in a bit of denial. "You're sure, absolutely positive, that this is from Valentine Morgenstern? He was supposed to be dead long before Clary's father - excuse me adoptive father - was killed. He died on the day of the Uprising. We were all taught it." He looked at Hodge as if he was expecting a different reply, even though his tutor had already confirmed Jace's assumptions and the backstory behind it several times.

Jace's little red head had been very quiet since Hodge had told her who her mother and assumed father must have truly been. He'd also tried to explain to her - in his gentle way - that the dead man she called her father, was in fact not the true source of her DNA. After which she had thrown herself into the arms of her geek friend. She seemed to be slowly mouthing the words _Graymark_, _Fairchild _and _Morgenstern _to herself. Alec felt some sympathy for her surge through him, but then he remembered her true namesake and every reason he had for not liking her, and the pity dissipated quickly. This girl had no respect for the calling every Nephilim bore, and she was not only Jace's new favorite, but she was Valentine Morgenstern's daughter. Maybe it was wrong of him, but Alec could not help the hostility he held for her.

"It seems we were wrong Alexander, and I am truly sorry for that. If Valentine was alive and well enough to write this letter that many years after his supposed death took place, we can only assume he is still alive now. Therefore I must notify the Clave immediately. This is no longer a matter of simply finding Clary's mother, this is a matter of the security of all Nephilim," Hodge told them all.

Clary looked up suddenly. "Does that mean you're not going to help me find her anymore?" she asked with eyes too wide. If Alec were the suspicious type, he might wonder if some silent communication was passing from the girl to his tutor, but that was ridiculous.

"On the contrary," Hodge said quickly. "It simply means we have a clue who has taken her now, and his motivation."

"Motivation?" Jace asked before Clary could. "I get that Clary's mother was his wife and he'd probably like to have her back, but beyond that what else would there be?"

"The Mortal Cup," said Hodge. "You are well aware of the story. Valentine stole it before he died. But now we know he did not, in fact, die, but why fake your death if you have such a powerful Instrument against the Clave in your hands?" he seemed to be waiting for a reply, so Alec did.

"Because he didn't have it. He faked his death to hide and escape punishment, which he wouldn't have done if he truly had the Cup?" Alec meant for the statement to sound more sure, but it ended as a question instead.

"Exactly," said Hodge. "So if Valentine didn't have it, who do you believe might? Why resurrect yourself after a decade in hiding, if not to make a play for the very thing you lost. I would believe that if anyone had the Cup, it would have been Clary's mother. Would you disagree?" The question seemed to be directed at the three trained Nephilim in the room.

"So he took Clary's mom to torture -" there was a small upsetting sound from the redhead, who buried herself a little deeper into the brown headed boy's arms, and Jace chose better words, "I mean get - information out of her?"

"Precisely," Hodge replied.

"But wait," Isabelle cut in, "if he thought his wife had the Cup, why wait so long to make a play? If he knew where they were since before Graymark's, er, death?" Alec felt every word of the sentence was seeped in annoyance, but he couldn't imagine why. His sister baffled him sometimes.

But Clary looked up at that, distressed, and separated herself from her mundane friend. For some reason Alec couldn't fathom, Isabelle seemed to mollify somewhat after this.

"I'm not sure," said Hodge, drawing Alec back to focusing on the conversation. "I knew Valentine Morgenstern well, and he had a reason for everything he did. But I couldn't begin to guess why he'd wait to capture Jocelyn. I suppose it doesn't really matter does it? The important thing now would be to find the Cup before he does, if Jocelyn hasn't already given him the information. If that in fact has occurred, it's still important to locate her. He may have told her things. Plans. This would be important information to the Clave."

"So the question is where do we start?" Isabelle asked.

Hodge looked at Clary, who stared back with her wide eyes, looked at her friend, and then too Jace for saving. Alec resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Clary's already told us that her mother didn't associate with many people, except maybe her neighbor the fake witch, but that was before we knew her mother was Jocelyn Morgenstern. Even you knew her Hodge, she must have had contact with people in our world. Someone who knew her well enough to know where she hid the Cup. Wouldn't she?" said Jace.

"Well," Hodge began. "There is one - a downworlder - who clearly knew her. His name is even in the note. Bane. Magnus Bane the warlock. Does that name sound at all familiar to you Clary?"

The redhead looked at Hodge and nodded slightly. "I recognize it, but I couldn't say from where. Do you think he would know something about my mom?"

"I couldn't say. But it is somewhere to start," Hodge said, looking at Isabelle.

"It's settled then, we go talk to Magnus Bane. He's even having a party tomorrow night." Alec looked at his sister with raised eyebrows.

"What?" she asked him irritably. "Of course I know where a party's gonna be at."

Alec only raised his hands a little in the air as a symbol of his backing off. "Tomorrow then," he responded.

"Good. You all should get your rest. I must contact the Clave," Hodge said.

At that, Alec and all the others exited the room. The mundane boy had his arm around Clary, with her leaning into his side as they followed Jace down the hall. Alec didn't have to see Jace's face to know that bothered him, it was all in his stance, even from the back. Alec slouched his shoulders and went walking in the opposite direction, towards his room.

"So uh, I have a little problem," Clary said as she walked down the hall behind Jace.

"And what would that be?" Jace asked, not turning around.

"I don't have anything with me. No clothes, no anything. How long exactly do you all plan on keeping me here? Because I can't just stay here indefinitely with nothing. Neither can Simon," she told Jace.

"You are a Nephilim and as such will be staying at the institute with us for, well, probably a very long time. Your mundane pal here can go home," he told them, finally stopping and turning around. Clary looked at him with animosity, to which he added: "Alright. If you want he can stay tonight but eventually he's gonna have to leave. This isn't a home for lost mundanes. If you want him around he will just have to, I don't know, come visit or something. He can see the institute now, I suppose he can come back whenever he chooses. So long as you're here to welcome him, because I certainly won't," Jace finished, turning back around and continuing his walk.

"Okay," Clary started. "You didn't solve my need for my um stuff though. Don't you think I could swing by my place? Just to pick up some of my clothes and things?"

Jace sigh, and turned back around. "I guess," he told her, and started walking back in the opposite direction, toward the exit.

"You know I, uh, know my own way to my house. Unless you think demons are out there..." Clary said quietly, and Jace turned to face her.

"You're saying you want me to let you and nerd boy here just go back to the home in which you were attacked with no supervision?" he asked her.

"Well, not if you think I'd be in danger, I was just saying I knew my own way. I'm not helpless you know. And I'm sure any of the demons' friends or whatever are long gone by now. Simon even went by there - didn't you? - and obviously nothing was there or it would have ate him right?"

Jace didn't like this, but then he thought maybe he was being a bit overbearing. If the mundane had been there since everything had happened and walked away fine, perhaps it was safe for Clary to go grab some of her things.

"Fine," he finally said. "But don't take forever." Clary smiled at him, and for a second Jace felt the world light up. She really was a beautiful girl. But then she took her mundane's hand and walked past Jace and out the near front door. As soon as they had left, Jace started to feel himself worry that he'd just made a mistake. He shook it off.

Clary's mood improved as soon as she left the institute, but she waited until they had rounded a corner to drop her false persona. Simon sensed the shift immediately. "Happy to be out of there are we?" he asked her, smiling. Clary nodded and took out her cell phone, obviously texting her other half. Then she put it away and beamed at Simon. He was glad to see the real Clary come out to play for a bit, and was happy to be away from the three people who assumed more than anyone that he was a weak little boy. Someday soon he'd have the power to kill them all if he felt like it.

As soon as Clary rounded the corner that brought her old house into view, she felt him. Jonathan was here, close. And this time she'd get to see him. She nearly started running, Simon walking quickly at her side. She walked up her steps and through the door and there he was. Her favorite person in all the worlds. She ran straight into his arms while Simon hung back at the door. "Managed to get away, did we?" Jonathan asked, before she cut him off with her lips. Kissing him was like coming home. It had simply been too long. She had more than enough reason not to start ripping his clothes off, but part of her still wanted to. She knew she wasn't alone in that feeling. After a few minutes though, Simon cleared his throat from the doorway. "We're on borrowed time here Clary," he said.

"Right," she sigh, and then detached herself from her elder sibling.

Jonathan smiled at her. She nearly started kissing him again, but held back. _Clothes_, she reminded herself. _I'm here for clothes and that witch_.

Simon walked past her and towards her old room. He gathered up a decent some of her things while she caught Jonathan up on everything he didn't know yet. Simon came out of her room and handed her her purple backpack full of stuff just as she finished the rundown.

"So you're just here to grab some of your stuff," Jonathan asked.

"Yes and no. Dorothea was mentioned more than a few times during the group conversations in there, and it got me thinking: she might be a fake but what if she knows something. I was thinking I should talk to her without the Nephilim breathing down my neck," she told Jonathan and Simon both, receiving nods in way of responses.

"So why am I here?" asked Jonathan.

Clary smirked at him. " I just wanted to see you, isn't that reason enough?"

"Sure," he told her, and pecked her on the lips again, "but I should probably leave. I don't think the witch should see me, especially if you ever have to come back here with the Nephilim, wouldn't want her remembering you with me."

Clary nodded, a little sadly. "I miss you," she told him, and he smiled as he disappeared from the house.

"Well then," Simon said after a bit of silence. "Better get talking to her before Jace starts thinking you're taking too long."

Clary nodded, and walked out her doorway and towards her neighbors', Simon following behind.


	45. Chapter 45

For a few moments after Dorothea had opened the door, there was a perfect silence. Her gaze cut into both Clary and Simon, and Clary could feel Simon's discomfort. She, on the other hand, was only being cautious. There was no way to know what this woman truly had up her sleeve, and a fake witch could know a lot of real things. So Clary only met her gaze, waiting.

"Clary," Dorothea began. "You've never come to visit me before." The woman's stance didn't exactly suggest that an invite inside. So Clary made no move, instead she only said, "special circumstances," to which Dorothea made a small nod. It seemed for a time that the old witch wasn't going to say or do anything else, but finally she did.

"Would you and your friend here like to come in?" she asked, her words carrying no emotion, her welcoming face looking very false. But Clary silently walked past her and inside, beckoning Simon to follow.

Simon didn't find Dorothea's home to be very comfortable, nor did he find himself comfortable around the witch herself. But he kept silent, waiting for Clary to get what she needed here. Clary was, of course, keeping her head. Simon could see her eyes scanning around the older woman's den, until they seemed to rest on something on one of the shelves. But when Simon looked, all he could see was a stack of cards.

"I don't suppose you came here for a reading?" Dorothea asked, her eyes following Clary's.

"I'm not sure what I came here for at all," Clary replied, her voice sounding detached. She was still looking around, continuing to glance at the cards every once in awhile.

"Might as well read you then," said the older woman, grabbing the deck.

"I don't believe I need..." Clary began, but then became silent. She was examining the tarot cards in Dorothea's hands with a look of newfound interest. "Yes?" said the witch, knowingly.

"My mother painted those for you?" Clary carefully asked.

"You recognize her hand. I didn't think you would pay enough attention to your mother's art to be able to recognize her work," Dorothea told Clary nonchalantly. Clary only looked at her, eyes betraying nothing.

"We're not that close," she said finally.

"Yes, I'd imagine not."

There was quiet as the witch took the tarot cards and displayed them on the table face down in a row.

"Choose. Oh come now, what could it hurt?"

Clary sat down slowly.

"Good. Now, run your hands over the deck. Choose the one that chooses you."

Clary rolled her eyes, but nonetheless followed instructions. Eventually she picked up a card.

"Don't look at it. Place it face up any way you feel like," Dorothea instructed.

The card revealed was reversed in Clary's direction. On it, Simon could see a man who must be a king, sitting on an elaborately drawn thrown. He was holding a gold cup. There were small designs in the background that Simon couldn't make out.

"King of Cups," said Dorothea. Then under her breath she added: "manipulative, volatile." At that, Clary's eyes narrowed to slits.

Then, out of nowhere and with surprising speed Dorothea looked up and grabbed Clary's head in between her two palms. She only managed to keep a hold for a fraction of a second before Clary grabbed the older woman by the wrists and tossed them away with enough force to get the older woman stumbling a little. The very short time, though, seemed to be enough. Dorothea was now looking at Clary as if she were a venomous snake.

"Just as I always assumed. A true shame. Your heart is black. Jocelyn, bless her soul, deserved better than a monster like you for a daughter. And you," said the angry witch as she turned to Simon. "I could sense death on you from a mile away, idiot boy. Too pathetic to be of use as is are we? Going to throw away your life and your soul for-" her speech was cut off by Clary's hand around her neck.

"That. Is quite enough talking from you," Clary said, her voice like ice. Then before Simon's eyes Clary squeezed, and there was a loud snapping sound. Dorothea's body fell to the floor, limp and lifeless. Not so much as a single drop of blood was anywhere.

Clary turned to Simon, and he watched as the small amount of dark green dissipated from Clary's eyes.

Simon willed himself to get a good look at the body on the floor, he would need to get used to such things and he knew it.

"Did you come here to kill her?" Simon finally asked.

"Actually, no. I came here to talk. But she didn't seem particularly interested in a two-way conversation now did she?" Clary asked him, slight venom in her voice.

Simon shook his head.

"Why?" Clary asked stepping closer to him. "Does this bother you? Because I'm not the one signing up for every meal to mean someone dead." Clary was amazing in many ways, one of them being how she could make you feel small while looking up at you. But

Simon looked straight into Clary's eyes, he refused to be intimidated by her anymore. He would be her equal soon, and he knew in order to be treated as such he needed to be firm and confident with her. "It doesn't bother me. I was just asking," he told her.

At last she turned away from him. "What a waste. I was hoping she'd know something we didn't already. But it turns out she knew too much about the wrong things." Then Clary cocked her head to the side a little, and bent down over the body. She came up a moment later holding a card.

"What's that?" asked Simon.

"Looks like an Ace. She had it up her sleeve," Clary said slowly, seeming to wonder something.

"It's just a card right?"

"Maybe. Looks different. This cup isn't like the one I got from the deck." Then after a moment she added, "It looks ... familiar."

Simon was losing interest. "Clary come on let's just go. Jace has got to be wondering where we are by now. Wouldn't want him to come looking would we?"

"No," Clary said quietly. "No we wouldn't." Finally, she threw the card over at the rest of the pile and made her way toward the door, Simon at her heels. He couldn't hide that he was relieved to be leaving.

Clary was still thinking about the strange looking card as she made her way back to the institute, her things in hand. There was something that she felt she was on the verge of, but she couldn't quite place it. After she walked inside, it was Alec who finally interrupted her thought process.

"Did you two just go somewhere?" he asked, sounding particularly testy.

"Jace said it was okay," Clary said, trying not to meet his eyes. She was all too aware that her own eyes were just a little too dark right now, and was starting to seriously debate using a strong glamour on the institute dwellers. The more people she killed, the less she could rely on her eyes' natural green.

"Really? Jace said it was okay that you, the daughter of Valentine Morgenstern, victim of recent demon attacks, could just take a quick trip around town? Why is it that I doubt that?" Alec asked, his sarcasm turning into distain.

"Attack," Clary said. "It was one, and I was perfectly safe this time."

"Yeah, well, I could care less about your safety," Alec scoffed.

Clary sigh, she couldn't win. "Look, I'm sorry that you have such a problem with me, but I haven't done anything to you. And I think you hate me because you're insecure about your relationship with Jace. Is he not paying enough attention to you anymore or something? Because it's really not my fault that you never told him about your feelings for h-" but Clary was cut off when Alec pinned her against the wall with his hands around her neck.

Everything in Clary was screaming at her to rip Alec to shreds, but over his shoulder she could see Simon. He shook his head. Once. Hard. _It's not worth it _was written all over his face. So Clary remained still and let Alec dish out whatever it was he felt like saying.

"If you ever say anything like that again, I will kill you," he declared. Then, seeming to gather himself he released her, shook his head as if to clear it, and walked away.

Clary stared after him for a moment, imagining the moment when Alexander Lightwood would die. Simon touched her shoulder. She finally looked back at him. "Come on, let's just find a room," she finally told him. Then she chose a random direction and lead the way.

Alec didn't trust the bitch. He'd finally decided for sure. He'd had her right there in front of him, pinned against the wall, and for some reason he'd felt like the helpless one. He couldn't even make it make sense to himself. He lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, remembering certain things about the incident. Only, he must have been imagining some things. When he'd had her pinned, he could have sworn there was something wrong with her eyes. And when he had grabbed on to her skin, he remembered a certain, almost, sting. Too much about her was weird, but no one would take his word on that. Especially not Isabelle, who knew about him. She'd assume what Clary had, that he was jealous. And unfortunately the charge was not entirely untrue. So after an hour of reliving the exchange, he finally let it go and fell asleep.

"Look at them Simon, what color are they?" Clary asked him for the third time, or perhaps it was the fourth. He still didn't want to answer. Finally, though, he did. "I'm not sure what you want to hear Clary, but I'm telling you: I could hardly call them green anymore." Clary seemed to expect this answer, and sigh, falling backwards on the bed. "I don't know a lot about glamours. But apparently I need one. A strong one. Magnus Bane needs to think I have green eyes too," she told the ceiling.

"Couldn't Jonathan help you?" Simon asked.

"Sure, but we already blew what was probably our one and only chance to leave here unsupervised. Not like I can just walk out."

"No. But there's a window right behind you. It's like two am, the shadowhunters aren't gonna come hunt for which room you're in. And on the very off chance they do, I'll just block the door and tell them you're sleeping."

Clary looked skeptical. "You really think that'll work?"

"If you hurry up," he told her.

It took a bit more convincing, but eventually Clary was on her feet, propping open the window and texting her brother to meet her somewhere for the second time in one night. Then she was gone.

Three hours later there was a small tap on the window. Simon was somewhat amazed that she hadn't had a problem with figuring out which window she'd exited from. Once she was safely back in the room, she asked him how she looked immediately. He stared intently at her eyes for a few seconds, amazed to see a brilliant green. "Your eyes are like ... they're how they were when you were like six or something," he told her, earning a smile.

"The glamour is more than strong, it looks completely real and not even a faerie should be able to see through it. But let's not test that," she added hastily.

Simon could tell she was in a good mood for more than just the eye thing, but he chose to ignore that small detail. No matter how close he got to them, Clary and Jonathan's sex life was still nothing he held any interest in. "You should get some sleep," he told Clary after a couple minutes.

"So should you, human boy. You're the one who needs it more for now. Oh look at that I got a smile. Yay," said Clary happily. At that Simon smirked a little wider, but nonetheless laid down to get a few hours sleep. Clary curled up right next to him, and for just a moment Simon felt like a little boy again.

It was around nine that Simon was awoken by Jace finally locating where Clary and Simon had decided to sleep. Simon nearly found himself laughing at the sight of Jace's face when the taller boy's' eyes rested on Clary, who was curled up against Simon's side. _Jealousy is a funny color on you dude, I like it_, thought Simon, even though he'd never dare to say it out loud. Clary didn't need the complication of Jace's oh-so-obvious feelings. He was about to nudge Clary awake when he saw Jace shake his head.

"Let her sleep. Magnus' party starts late. Around midnight-ish. Day sleeping is probably for the best," Jace said, and then, having nothing else to say, shut the door again.


	46. Chapter 46

Simon was standing at the bottom of a staircase while Clary and Isabelle, looking particularly glamorous, made their way down it. He was attempting to look anywhere but at Isabelle, so he couldn't help but notice Jace's gaping at Clary. Simon almost felt sorry for the blonde shadowhunter boy, he was clearly infatuated with a girl he knew nothing about. And Simon imagined the moment he did know anything real about her, his life would end shortly after.

But Jace was not the only one staring at Clary. Alec's stare, however, was not filled with infatuation, it was filled instead with suspicion. Simon realized quickly that he was trying to meet Clary's eyes. Right. Alec had seen them at their near-darkest, and now they were a shining bright green. It figured that Alec would be the only one to take notice. Simon looked away from the black-haired boy, and accidentally made eye contact with Isabelle. Simon sigh and looked instead at Clary, who only smiled at him. He had to give it to her, she really could be beautiful. Clary walked to Jace, who seemed to take a second too long to say something. When he did speak, Clary blushed. Simon then watched as Jace pulled something out of Clary's hair, and each crimson strand fell onto her shoulders in waves. Clary's blush deepened, and Simon hid a smirk.

Isabelle's heart lurched at the sight of her brother's jealousy, and she carefully took his arm and met his eyes with sympathy. He shrugged her off.

"Come on, we have to go," said her elder brother, and everyone else started to follow him from the institute. Isabelle sigh heavily and followed suit.

Magnus' party was something else. This house, filled with intoxicated downworlders and thus in ruins, bore little similarity to the simple living space from Clary's dreaming memories. She let Jace grab her hand and lead her through the house. Eventually, though, they ran right into the person they were looking for. Magnus had not aged a day since Clary was a baby. His cat eyes did not rest on her, instead he spoke mostly to Jace. Perhaps he did not recognize her from the baby he'd once met, but somehow Clary doubted that.

"Children of the Nephilim. I don't recall inviting you," said the warlock.

"We're not gonna cause any problems, we just want to talk to you," Isabelle told him from behind Clary.

Magnus squinted at her before he finally seemed to allow it. "How about you enjoy the party a little while first, I'm not interested in doing any work for shadowhunters at the moment," he told them, and then abruptly turned and walked away.

Isabelle seemed to shrug, and then turned to Simon. Clary watched as the raven haired girl held her hand out to him, and Simon rolled his eyes and walked right past her outstretched hand. Isabelle seemed to stand still for a moment before she turned to look after him, but Simon had already disappeared. Clary wished she could smile.

Simon couldn't believe that Isabelle would just assume he'd be perfectly willing to just dance with her, as if they had never had anything between them. Didn't she understand that she had hurt him? And her continuing to act like they were merely strangers didn't exactly help that. To her it was just a dance, but to him it was a knife in his kneecap.

Raphael came out of nowhere. Straight from the shadows, maybe there a secret corridor in this house. But here the small vampire was. "It has been a while Simon," he said to him, as if commenting on the weather. But Simon knew what the real question was.

"I'm still going to Change. I just need more time. We have a really good thing being set up right now. Soon I swear," he told him, rushing through the words.

"I believe you are overestimating the time you have left. I'm not sure you even still have any time. It's been enough time for my blood to have left your system," the vampire informed him.

Simon's jaw went slack, horrified.

"Relax. I can give you more of my blood, if it is what you truly want," he told him.

"Of course it's what I want," Simon told him quickly.

Raphael walked past him and over to a table, which held colored refreshments. He chose an already purple concoction he must have deemed harmless before he cut his palm with his nail and added several drops of his blood to it. He then put it in Simon's hand. "Thank you," Simon told him after a few seconds silence.

"I had a feeling when I saw you that you had much to do in this world that you simply could not do as you are. That is why I sat at that table and offered you a chance. Do not make me regret it, and do not forget to inform me when you wish to Change. There are things only I can do for you," he told Simon all at once, and then turned from him and disappeared back into the crowd of downworlders that packed the place.

Simon looked down at the glass he held. _Bottoms up,_ he thought to himself, and then downed it all in one swallow. It was not seconds later that Isabelle came storming over to him, shrieking about being careful and demanding to know what on earth he'd just consumed, for which he had no answer.

"Unbelievable," she told him. "Anything could have been in that. You could have been turned into a rodent on the spot. Do you understand who all is around you?! Do you get where you are?! Idiot!" And with that she spun on her heel and stormed away from him, leaving Simon speechless.


	47. Chapter 47

On the other side of the house from Simon, Clary was a little nervous. She watched as Jace scanned the house with his eyes, looking to locate Magnus again. That, of course, was what Clary also wanted. But it never left her mind that Magnus might prove to be the undoing for her cover. Besides those she was close to, and her mother, Magnus was the only one who had any clue of her true demonic nature. He was also a warlock, who had been alive for probably a very long time, and he may be able to see through her. If she talked to Magnus in front of the shadowhunters, and he chose to reveal the wrong thing, everything would fall apart.

_You can do this, no problem,_ Clary told herself.

"We should look outside," Jace said as he turned to her, interrupting her inner pep talk. She just nodded and smiled sheepishly at him. He took her hand again and led her to Magnus' large backyard.

Alec watched as his younger sister stormed away from him - in the middle of a sentence no less - and made her way angrily to the mundane boy they'd brought with them. For a moment he let himself wonder what her issue with Clary's human was as he watched her yell at him from across the room. But then Alec became aware of where he was standing: awkwardly in the middle of a house full of downworlders. Apparently, he was the odd shadowhunter out. He kept his head down and refused to make eye contact with any of the species around him, and found himself walking aimlessly through the living space. Eventually he came to a door that seemed to hide the only untouched space in the place. But the room didn't seem to be anything special. It looked big enough to contain an office, but Alec would probably describe it as more of a _junk room_ if people had those things. Then again, what did Alec know about how a warlock kept his house?

There was a medium sized cot of sorts in the corner, and seemingly insignificant trinkets were all throughout. The most interesting items in here were the paintings. They had something to them that caught the eye- even though the places and things painted on the canvas' were nothing more than average. A stream, a bird, etc. Alec chose not to dwell on them, and turned to leave. He nearly ran smack into the man they came to see. Magnus Bane was striking, and not just for his eyes. His presence itself seemed to command an attention that had nothing to do with the glitter he clearly had a good relationship with. Beyond that, Alec couldn't deny that Magnus was very attractive. The shadowhunter took a step back.

"You Nephilim are still here," Magnus stated, not sounding like he expected a reply.

It took Alec a second too long to speak. "You walked away before we had a chance to talk to you. Did you think we'd just turn around and leave?"

"Not in the slightest. I invited your group to stay remember? But a warlock can hope." He paused for a fraction of a second, and then met Alec's eyes. "I don't think I want you to leave, at least not yet."

For some reason, Alec couldn't find his tongue. So, for lack of anything else to do, he turned and went to find Jace. _Jace should be the one talking to him, not me_, he told himself as he made his way through the group of dancing vampires. He tried to stop thinking about the way the warlock had looked at him when he said he'd like him to stay.

Isabelle didn't know where she was storming off to. She knew she couldn't actually leave this party without her brother and the rest of them. But she was so fumed at Simon, she wished she could just go back to the institute. She couldn't understand how he could be such an imbecile. _Oh I'm in a house full of strange creatures capable of killing me yeah sure lemme just drink whatever they offer to me, it could be fun,_ she mocked in her head. Part of her knew it was unfair of her to expect him to be well-prepared and smart about everything, though. He was new to this world, and that was partly because in the years she'd been with him, she'd given him lies instead of truths.

She tried to turn her guilt over their whole relationship away and reject any responsibility for his ignorance or pain, but part of her couldn't do that. And it was that small part of her that made her see what a mess she was. It was pathetic really. She pranced around him, pretending as if she saw their relationship as a mistake at best, completely fake at worst. Yet she got jealous when he hovered around Clary, tried to dance with him, or got upset every time he was involved in something dangerous. She scolded herself for acting like an emotional teenage girl, she was a warrior for the Angel's sakes. She needed to gain control of herself again. So instead of abandoning the group and marching back to the institute, she turned and went looking to find Jace again. In doing so, the first person she found was Alec, looking particularly off.

"I, uh, I know where Magnus is. I was looking for Jace do you know where he is?" her brother asked.

"Was just looking for him myself. I'd imagine just search for Clary, she's easier to spot," she told him.

And spot Clary they did, unsurprisingly attached to Jace. Simon was also only a few feet from the fiery haired girl. Isabelle pushed down whatever feelings that brought up, it was the last thing she needed right now.

"Next time we find Magnus," said Jace, "don't let him blow you off."

"I didn't blow you off Nephilim, I invited you to stay a while and put business off for later," said the voice that came from behind them. They all turned and met Magnus' cat-like eyes.

Clary's heart nearly made acquaintance with her throat, before she shut down her nervousness, and let calm wash over her. She carefully looked away from Magnus, and at the floor, trying to get his attention without asking for it. His attention, though, seemed to be rather tied up. He was looking at Jace, since he was the obvious mouthpiece, but a fraction of his attention was for Alec alone. Clary frowned inwardly, a relationship between those two could be problematic if they got to talking. The stakes riding on Magnus rose a lot higher in those few seconds alone.

"Oh fine," said Magnus finally. "Follow me."

The lot of them made their way to an empty, but very cluttered, little room.

"I'm just gonna cut to it here," Jace began. "How do you know Jocelyn Morgenstern?"

Clary looked up at Jace just as Magnus' gaze flashed toward her. So, he _had _known who she was ever since she got here.

"So you've come to me for Clary's sake," Magnus responded, and Clary drew her brows together. Magnus' eyes widened only fractionally as he took in the brightness of her iris'. At least the glamour was holding up. Magnus looked back at Jace, and continued.

"Jocelyn came to me a long time ago. Wanted help, so her daughter could live as a normal mundane. I couldn't do much for her, it was all very complicated. For a few years we kept somewhat in touch. I've bought some of her art," he gestured to the wall behind him. "We haven't spoken in years, though, so I don't know why you would come to me about her."

"My mom didn't have many friends," Clary spoke for the first time, "any really."

"We found something that indicated she knew you, so we came to give it a shot," Jace finished.

"Well, if that's the case, you came for nothing. Why are you asking about Jocelyn anyway?" asked Magnus.

"My mom's been kidnapped, that's why, and no one really knew anything about her. And we need to find her" Clary told him.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but said nothing.

"We need to know about the Cup. Jocelyn seems to be our best bet at finding it," Jace elaborated.

"I was under the impression that particular Mortal Instrument had been lost," said Magnus. "Are you suggesting Jocelyn had it all that time?"

"He knows nothing," Isabelle said suddenly. "This is a waste of time. We're the ones supplying him with information, kind of the opposite of what we came here for."

Magnus' lips thinned. Clary didn't blame him, he probably dealt with more than his share of rude Nephilim in his time.

"Well. I would like to say it's been nice having you, but for the majority of you, it has not been. So I'm going to ask you lot to leave." He then gave Alec a look that suggested he was not included in that majority. Alec's cheeks flamed in response, and he scurried towards the door. But Jace wasn't done.

"That's it? There's nothing you can tell us that could help us at all? Nothing Jocelyn ever said or did that indicated a hiding place or a secret from her past or anything?"

"If you want to discover an artist's' secrets, I would look at her art, not at her acquaintances," Magnus told them.

Jace rolled his eyes, and started to lead Clary toward the door after Alec, Simon and Isabelle trailing closely behind. Clary could feel Magnus' eyes on her back as she left.

"What exactly did that accomplish?" Isabelle asked, irritated as their group walked through the streets. Clary was feeling particularly irritated too. Isabelle was right, Magnus had been a complete waste of time. A shot in the dark that proved useless. Why did she ever think going to him would come to anything? As if Jocelyn would have told a warlock anything about the Cup. Apparently, the only person who knew where the damn thing was was Jo herself.

Clary felt like she wanted to crouch down and tear out some of the pavement in frustration. This shouldn't be happening. She should have the Instrument by now, and Jocelyn should be dead, not in a blissful coma. But Valentine would never let her be killed until he had the Cup with him. So Jo's pathetic life continued. It was infuriating, and it was made more so for a reason Clary couldn't quite understand. There was something, she could feel it. It was like having the word you were looking for on the very tip of your tongue but still not knowing it. Clary knew she was so close to putting it together, but she couldn't pinpoint anything. So she walked in silence, her hand holding on to a boy that was not the one she loved, listening to the girl she hated rant.


	48. Chapter 48

_Color._

_Reds and splashes of blues and streams of purples and green._

_Everywhere there was color._

_Surrounded by it and drowning in it and floating on it and all that could be seen was color._

_"Discover an artist's secrets ... look at her art..."_

Clary opened her eyes. She took in all the air she could and welcomed the blackness of night. There had been too much paint, she'd been suffocating, and it had been too bright. It was after she could breathe that she remembered Magnus' voice in her dream. She resisted the urge to find something to throw at the wall. She knew what he'd been suggesting when he had said that. Her mother had probably drawn or painted the answer somewhere. There could be a map in some painting that was set apart for some special reason, but Clary didn't know how she was supposed to figure any of that out. All she knew was that she never wanted to have another dream like that one again.

Clary was fed up. She had to figure this out, she had to remember something. She slowly got up and got out of the bed she'd been treating as hers, trying to avoid waking Simon up. Once she was safely out of the room, she started making her way to the library. She was banking on the idea that Hodge couldn't be totally useless. If anyone was going to help her learn anything, it should be the glorified librarian.

Only, she didn't quite make it to the library before Jace seemed to materialize out of nowhere and cross her path. She suppressed a groan.

"Not very tired are we?" he asked her, clearly curious why she was wandering around so close to midnight.

"I must not be the only one," she pointed out, smiling.

His lips turned up at one corner. "You got me there," he told her.

She forced a small giggle.

"Well, since we're both up, looks like we can actually have a private conversation."

She looked at him, her eyes widening a little bit as if she had just become slightly nervous.

He laughed a little. "I just mean that you've been here for a while and we haven't really gotten a chance to talk. Since I brought you here I mean."

"Time flies I guess," she responded warmly.

"Yeah. Speaking of, I missed a birthday a while back right? You're seventeen now aren't you?" he asked.

"Couple months ago yeah," she admitted.

Privately Clary was a little surprised. Dates and seasons hadn't been at the forefront of her mind. Part of her was a little incredulous that it had been a little over a year since she'd met Jonathan and discovered who she was. It was a little amazing that it would be Jace who reminded her.

"We should celebrate," Jace said, interrupting her thoughts.

"What? How?" she asked.

That was when he took her hand. She let him, resisting the urge to wrench it from his grasp.

Jace took Clary up on top of the institute, standing in a greenhouse full of hundreds of plants and flowers. He looked over at her, happy to see a brilliant smile on her face. _By the Angel she's beautiful, _Jace thought to himself. Then she looked at him, and he felt his heart swell just a little at the sight of her mesmerizing green eyes. Everything about her was beautiful. Jace willed himself to focus enough to talk to her.

"No one really comes up here. Hodge will sometimes, but not Alec or Isabelle. I love it though. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that things can be beautiful," he admitted to her.

Her face softened as he spoke, and she squeezed his hand a little. "I'm sorry for the ugliness you have to see," she told him gently.

He shrugged, couldn't seem too soft to her. "Comes with the profession," he told her.

She released his hand, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at that, and made her way towards the flowers. Oh right. Midnight. Some were blooming.

"That happens at midnight. I figured you'd like to see it," as if he'd meant to show her specifically this, "happy extra belated birthday," he told her.

She turned back to him. "I love it," she responded with a big smile. He took her hand again, and she looked down at their interlocked hands. Then she looked back up to his eyes. "Thank you," she said, sounding careful.

She was beautiful. The way she moved and spoke and the way the green of her eyes would sometimes swirl in a strange way that made his vision blur fractionally. And suddenly, seemingly without his own consent, Jace found himself bending down and kissing her.

He had the strangest sensation of falling into an abyss. He told himself that perhaps he was falling into her. Jace decided he was okay with that.

Clary didn't know how she was managing to survive this. Jace's lips were moving against hers, and she felt dirty. She wanted to grab a fist full of his hair and use it to peel him off of her, maybe use his body to break the glass on the greenhouse's roof. But instead, she let him kiss her. She forced herself to kiss him back until he pulled away. Then, somehow, she smiled at him. She fought the urge to spit on his face. At least he seemed satisfied. She would never have to worry about his trust in her again, he clearly believed she walked on water now. As he led her back to her room, she found herself seriously debating if it was worth it. Just as she decided that it probably was, he pulled her in for another kiss right in the doorway to her room. Their lips had barely connected when the door opened and Simon was there. She could have kissed Simon's shoes in that moment, but she put on her most mortified expression.

"What the hell?" Simon asked.

"I was wondering the same thing," Jace said, releasing Clary's hand. "You didn't tell me you already had a man in your bed."

"I ... where were you thinking that he's been sleeping? I've gotten used to it and I kind of just ... it slipped my mind..." she trailed off unable to say more to either of them, sounding horribly embarrassed.

"The point here is that you invited him to bed," Simon said, looking like she'd personally betrayed him.

"I didn't invite him into bed," Clary snapped. "We were just kissing."

"Just kissing?" Jace's tone mocked her with its false hurt. "How swiftly you dismiss our love."

Clary almost dropped everything, nearly overcome with the desire to drop kick him. Instead she said, "Jace…"

She saw the bright malice in his eyes and trailed off. At least she wouldn't have to kiss him again. And no matter what he said, she knew he had strong feelings for the girl he thought she was. He would still trust her now, even if he hated her. This was all for the best, but it was still important to seem hurt.

"Simon, it's late," she said as she turned back to the doorway. "I'm sorry we woke you up."

"So am I." He stalked back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Jace's smile was as bland as buttered toast. "Go on, go after him. Pat his head and tell him he's still your super special little guy. Isn't that what you want to do?"

She started aching for the day she could kill him with no consequence, or maybe for the day that Simon could. She pushed that aside and gave the response your average hurt teenage girl would give. "Stop it," she said. "Stop being like that."

His smile widened. "Like what?"

"If you're angry, just say it. Don't act like nothing ever touches you. It's like you never feel anything at all." She could have laughed at the irony of telling someone else this.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you kissed me," he said.

All humor she was suppressing vanished. She looked at him incredulously. "I kissed you?"

He rolled his eyes and walked away. _Good_, she thought. That was definitely a good choice on his part, he'd never know how much of a good decision.

She opened the door to her's and Simon's guest room. He was actually packing inside. "That was good," Clary said with a little confusion in her voice, "but you can drop it now."

"Drop what?" he asked as he turned to her, and she was shocked to see he was actually upset.

"Uh... what's your issue?" she asked slowly.

"Look, when I found out that you were supposedly in love with your own brother, it understandably took me a while to come around, but I did. And now, maybe as a shock to you, I actually give a damn about him. So is it really so hard for you to get why I'd be upset after I see you cheating on him?" he asked.

Clary was floored. "Cheating- on Jonathan? That's what you're mad about? That I was cheating? What the hell? First of all, I wasn't cheating. This is all a game Simon, you know that. Nothing I do here is real, that certainly wasn't. I just need Jace to trust me and I figured this was the simplest way. And second: Jonathan really doesn't need you to be defending his honor. He would understand what I have to do. It's not like I'm enjoying myself," she told him, anger coloring her voice. She wanted to be happy that Simon genuinely cared about Jonathan at all, but she couldn't because of the ridiculousness of the current situation. And that made her all the more annoyed.

"I'm just not ... I'm not comfortable with it alright? I'm sorry I freaked out. But he probably just thinks I'm jealous or something so it isn't a problem," he told her.

"Than can you explain to me why you're still packing?" she asked.

He sigh at that. "I'm not helping here Clary. They know who I am, they'll expect me to visit or you to visit me. They all know I'm a part of this now, but I'm not exactly contributing by being in here and sleeping in this bed with you every night while we accomplish exactly nothing. I'd be of more use on the outside with Jonathan and you know it. Especially since once Valentine has the Cup we'll be able to set something up to get me turned. You know it makes sense for me to really go. Plus, Jace thinks I'm going to now," he explained.

All Clary could do was nod. He picked up his stuff and walked past her and out of the room. Clary sat on the bed until she heard him leave the institute.

She sigh. At least he had taken care of Jace for her. It was now very late, and the only other person likely to be still awake at this hour - next to Jace who she doubted would be bothering her for some time after the night's events - was, thankfully, Hodge. It was probably the only safe chance she'd get to talk to him freely. She got up and took off toward the library, trusting that this time she was unlikely to be intercepted.

Hodge didn't seem to be doing anything of importance. Clary saw him fiddling with a book on his desk, and decided interrupting him would be of no consequence. But it turned out she didn't have to. Once she got close enough, he looked up.

"Ah, Clarissa. What brings you to see me?" asked Hodge.

All her frustration from earlier this night came flooding back. "Time's just going by. It's been two days since we saw Magnus and since then no one here has even mentioned the Cup. There's no other leads. No one knows a thing, but I know I know something! I'm on the verge of something I just can't," Clary paused and took a deep breath. "It's your job to help me, so help."

"If you believe that what you need to know is close to being revealed to you, then perhaps the answer is to try to expand the mind. You've heard of the gray book yes?"

Clary nodded.

"Good. I think if you were to look at the book for a while, and focus, something may surface. It couldn't hurt to try," he told her.

And so, Hodge went back to his desk to continue fiddling with his books. Clary sat and stared at runes. After a while Hodge cleared his throat.

"I know you aren't the artist's type. But maybe if you were to draw some of the Marks, your mind would focus on them more effectively. It's just a suggestion," he finished rather quickly after seeing the look she had given him in response. However, a few minutes later Clary did in fact begin sketching a few of the runes. Only, that didn't last. She got bored quickly, and started to see the uselessness of staring at and doodling runes she'd already learned. She soon found herself with a half drawn picture of Hodge's raven, Hugo, that she'd apparently taken a liking to. It wasn't long before Hodge noticed her diversion.

"I don't think drawing a picture of my raven is going to get us any closer to the Mortal Cup, do you?" he asked her condescendingly.

She looked up at him, fire in her eyes. "Don't talk to me like I'm some brat who doesn't want to do her chores. No one cares about finding this Cup more than I do," she informed him venomously.

"I assure you, I need the Cup found much more than you," said Hodge.

"Really? And why is that?"

"Circle members were punished after The Uprising as I'm sure you know."

Clary nodded, only minimally curious what this information had to do with anything.

"Well my punishment was, if I do say so myself, very likely the worst. I am cursed to stay here, in this institute. The inside walls of this building will be the only place I will see until I die," he told her.

"Are you telling me this for sympathy? Because that's not exactly my specialty," Clary responded.

"No. I am telling you this so you will understand, the only thing that can free me is my being the one to deliver the Cup to Valentine."

Clary stood up. "You're saying what? That you're in this for the benefits? So my dear old dad will bail you out of a punishment that you earned?" she asked, incredulous. Hodge didn't say a word. "So you have no actual loyalty to my father or anything we're trying to accomplish. You just want to save your own skin. Pathetic," she finished and sat back down.

"I don't expect you to understand Clarissa, why would you? No. All I'm asking is that you look at this from the smartest angle. My giving Valentine the Cup is the best way to go about this."

Clary rolled her eyes.

"Do you even know what your father plans for you to do once the Cup is found?" he asked.

Clary looked up, unable to give him a sure answer since she didn't have all the details.

"What then would you do if he had planned on you staying here? Under cover with these Nephilim as you had? If you give your father the Cup, you become a known and obvious enemy. No cover left to speak of," he explained. "However, if it was me, then that would be that. I disappear afterwards, I get blamed for the betrayal and loss, and you ensure the Lightwoods' trust in you."

"Fine," Clary said, realizing he was right. "But I don't trust you. Once you get what you want, you could just as easily get to Jace and the others and tell them the truth. You're on the run anyways, what's Valentine when you're running from the entire Nephilim race? So I want you to understand something." Hodge seemed to back up a little as she got close to him. "If you do tell anyone anything at all, you won't have to worry about my father. It'll be me who finds you, and it'll be me who makes you pay very dearly for it before you die."

It took Hodge a moment too long to say anything. "I assure you, I would never betray you or your father. I am not a stupid man," he told her.

"Of course. How could you be? You're barely a man at all. More like a weasel," she turned from him, "but I guess I'm counting on that."

A few moments later, Clary's frustration flared up again. "This is a waste. Me getting more unnecessary sleep would be more useful than sitting in this library chatting with you."

"You're not giving the book a chance. It would help you if you would focus-" he was cut off by Clary.

"I have been!" she nearly yelled, and slammed her hand onto the desk she'd been working at. That was when Clary felt it, the feel of a feather on her finger. She looked down, her eyes glued to the page her hand was now resting on. In experiment, she lightly brushed her fingers across the page again. There was no question about it: she could feel the raven feathers she herself had drawn. Clary decided to pull, and a moment later, she was holding a real black feather in her hand.

"Where did you get that?" Hodge asked from behind her.

Clary was fighting the urge to laugh, ridiculously, out loud. "That clever bitch," she said under her breath, amazed. "A fucking tarot card. She put it in a fucking tarot card."

"I don't follow," said Hodge.

"You don't have to," she told him, and then practically disappeared out the door.


	49. Chapter 49

It was about one in the morning when Simon finally reached his home. He knew his mother was sleeping, so he opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside, deciding not to turn on the light. It had been a decent while since he ate, the Nephilim he'd been staying with for the past few days didn't seem to do it very often, and when they did Simon found he preferred to skip out on the food for the sake of avoiding Isabelle.

So instead of heading to his room, he made his way to the fridge and ended up making a sandwich. It was in the light of the left open fridge however, that Simon got a glance at the living room, and noticed - for the first time - that his mother was sleeping on the couch. He carefully got up and walked over, putting a blanket gently over her.

Simon hadn't dwelt on it much, but he knew after his rebirth he would no longer to get see his mother, or his sister, Rebecca, for that matter. He didn't have the slightest clue how he was going to say goodbye, so he'd been avoiding it. Of course he couldn't explain what was really happening, it was best his family members didn't know anything about it. All they would discover, when it came down to it, was that they were still alive and untouched while the rest of the world was dying. Maybe he'd get to explain why that was at that time, he wasn't sure. But either way, he knew they would never understand.

He didn't even want to picture his mother's face if she ever discovered that he'd helped to destroy so many lives. It was a fact he sometimes - though he'd never admit to Clary or Jonathan - still had a bit of trouble with himself. Part of him, a substantial part, hoped that his remaining empathy for strangers would go away after he'd become a vampire. After all, how much sympathy could a vampire possibly have for humans, when they saw them as food. No, it would be easier afterwards. And his loyalty to Clary and everything he'd decided to do would strengthen enough to put all his worries at ease. He was definitely looking forward to becoming this new Simon.

All these thoughts and more flitted through his head in what was probably seconds, and he started walking back towards the kitchen. That was until his mother shifted and woke.

"Simon?" she croaked.

He turned. "Yeah mom, it's me."

She sat nearly upright. "Where have you been?" she barely refrained from yelling at him, but her voice was definitely raised.

"I sent you a text. I told you I was with Clary," he reminded her.

"Yes, days ago! Since then not a word. How was I supposed to know you hadn't been abducted?" she asked incredulous, seeming to be quite awake now.

"I- look mom I'm fine. I just needed a few days to myself. I'm nearly an adult you know."

"_Nearly an adult_," she mimicked. "You are seventeen years old. Barely if I do say so myself. And this may come as a shock to you Simon, but seventeen is not eighteen. And regardless, you are still living under my roof!"

"Maybe it's time that changed," he said quietly.

"Come again?" she asked, her fury now restrained but unbearably cold.

"I said. Maybe it's about time that I don't live under your roof anymore. Maybe I ought to get an apartment with ... Isabelle," he finished, knowing his mother's last bit of info on the situation was that he'd been to meet Isabelle's _parents _and they'd been nice. As far as his mother knew, this was a solid excuse, but he still didn't like having to give it.

"That's ... that's out of the question," she finished, unable to express just how out of the question it was according to herself. "You are not of legal age to be making any decision about where you live, and as far as I'm concerned there is no way you are leaving this house."

Simon sigh inwardly, he really hadn't planned to have to do this the very night he returned home, or any other night until his change was near. But he knew what Clary would say, he was passing up an opportunity for a clean break. And it was with that in mind that he chose his next words. "Watch me," he told her, and made his way to his room.

His mom turned on every light in their small house as she followed him down the hall and watched open mouthed as he began to throw some of his things in a bag.

"I have no idea where this behavior is coming from. Actually scratch that, I have a perfect idea!" she hollered.

"Mom don't -" he began, but was cut off.

"No. I will not. If I had known what a bad influence that insulant girl would turn out to be on you, I would have never allowed you to befriend her," she told him, her voice beyond scandalized.

"Mom, we were six," he told her exasperatedly as he threw another shirt into his duffle.

"Exactly! But I still should have known. The way she behaved. I blame myself," her tears seemed to be coming now.

Simon couldn't find it himself to deny the charge on Clary, partly because it was true and partly because his denial wouldn't make the slightest difference. He only sigh audibly and zipped up his bag. He had packed nothing but clothes.

"Simon Lewis. I'll be damned before I let you leave this house."

Simon nearly pointed out the unknown irony of that statement to his mother, but wisely chose not to and instead fainted left and quickly went below her right arm. That, non too shockingly, resulted in an angry screech.

He was right in front of his door when he turned back to face his mother, tears now streaming down her face. He didn't know how to do this, but no matter how many times he reminded himself what side he was on, he still possessed a heart. The Simon he still was right now simply could not allow that to have been potentially the last time he saw or spoke to his mom. She hadn't been a bad mother, and she'd loved him. It was no fault of hers the path he'd chosen to take. So he opened his mouth, but all that came out was a very soft, "mom."

He thought his mom seemed to shrink back a little, as if she knew what was coming but didn't want it to. As if she knew this was more than a teen boy deciding to bail for a few days.

He stood staring at her for a moment before he managed to say something. "Tell Becca that ... tell her I love her. And," he paused, unsure how to force out the last bit, "I love you mom." Simon opened the door behind him. "I'm sorry," and he disappeared out of it.

Walking away from his home felt like walking away from himself. From the good jewish boy his loving mother raised him to be. For a fleeting moment he wondered how horrified his younger self would be if he could see Simon right now, walking steadily into the dark. But he dismissed that thought when he realized he had regrettably not finished his sandwich.

Clary was about fourteen solid inches from the institutes front door when a voice from behind her halted her progress.

"Where're you going?" Alec asked, his tired voice seeped in suspicion.

A million thoughts rushed through Clary's head at these words, as she slowly turned to face him. Including _why is he awake,_ _why is he dressed like he just got here_, _was he anywhere near the library, could he have heard anything, how do I answer this without blowing everything, _and _this doesn't look great. _Adding to it was the fact that Alec was staring at her as if he could hear everything passing inside her head. Clary groped for something to explain why she would be attempting to flee the institute at nearly three in the morning. Deflecting suspicion back on to his whereabouts wasn't likely to get a good outcome.

"I had a dream," she responded finally.

"You ... had a dream?" he prompted.

"Yes. My mom was in it and I saw ... look I figured out where the Mortal Cup is. And I just ..." she didn't get a chance to finish her made up explanation.

"You're saying," Alec began slowly, "that you remembered where your mom put the Cup in a dream, and you - a defenseless mundane girl - were just gonna head out at three am and go pick it up? Without anyone?"

Clary looked at him mutely before answering. "I'm not a mundane. And Jace is upset with me right now and I didn't think-"

Alec interrupted her again. "Are you suggesting that Jace is so annoyed with you, he would neglect his duties as a shadowhunter?"

"No. Stop doing that. I just thought if I could go get it myself it'd be easier on everyone..." she trailed off, having nothing more to add except insults better kept to herself.

"Right no I get it. Prove yourself right? Maybe impress Jace a little?" He prodded.

Clary nearly rolled her eyes. The jealousy in his voice was so obvious she nearly smiled. _'What's the matter? _she wished she could ask, _Whoever you're with at two am not doing it for ya? Rather be with Jace, the one who wouldn't look at you like that if you were standing stark naked in front of him holding a dozen roses? _Sometimes her self control amazed even her, since instead she only said, "you've got the wrong idea."

"Sure I do. Right. Well how about you stay right here, and I'll just go get Jace and my sister huh?" he suggested.

Clary merely shrugged.

Alec took one last intrusive stare at her before he turned on his heel and headed towards Jace's room.

Clary wished she had something to kick across the hall and let out her frustration. _This could have been so easy, _she fumed silently.


	50. Chapter 50

Isabelle was in a sort of half-dream state. She knew subconsciously that she was laying comfortably in her bed, but the pictures in her mind's eye did not tell her this. She saw images of her mother, standing in front of her, laughing, talking just like she did when she had been around. She saw her sulking over Isabelle's father in their room. She saw her mother reaching to pick her up...

Isabelle's eyes snapped open at the sound of Alec's voice. She hadn't been completely unaware in the first place, but she had still been very relaxed and was instantly irritated at her brother for waking her up. That was before the moving images of her mother came flooding back.

Isabelle had been thinking of Maryse often over the past few days. Where was she? She had said she needed time to _grieve_, but that had been a time ago. Besides, she was the mother. She ought to have been there for her kids who had also grieved. But that time had passed, especially for Nephilim. So where was Maryse? Why hadn't she contacted anyone, even Jace, since she had received the news of her husband going missing. Could she be in Alicante for Nephilim business? By now she should have at least called. Isabelle thought her dreams were probably the representation of her concern, but she had refrained from mentioning their mother to Alec as of yet, and she was beginning to wonder if she should.

Isabelle shook off her silent wonderings, barely catching what Alec had said, but she could also assume it had been something along the lines of "get dressed" so she got out of bed and began to do so.

Simon had been walking aimlessly for nearly a half hour, trying to think of somewhere he could spend a few nights. He wished he could go right to the vampires, as he knew he was ready now. But he also knew that Clary hadn't given him the okay, and he was beginning to wonder irritably if that time was ever going to come.

He knew full well that Valentine had no idea of Simon's involvement in - or knowledge of - the plan. He certainly had no idea of Simon's intentions to become a downworlder, something in which he'd learned Valentine held only contempt. Destroying downworlders had in fact, as Simon was told by his favorite demon siblings themselves, been one of the reasons for Valentine's version of the plan forming in the first place. Though, apparently, this was not something he was clear on. His prejudice against downworld was typically vague and not discussed in Clary's presence, since he suggested Jonathan use the charge of _prejudice _to inspire Clary's hatred of normal Nephilim ways. So he kept his personal extreme views, and the actions they resulted in, to a minimum around his precious _Seraphina _\- Simon had laughed - as if he thought it might inspire more ill-will between himself and someone he valued on his side. Unfortunately for Valentine, that was exactly what it did. He just didn't know it. But no matter what, there was no way he'd ever approve of his children enlisting the help of a vampire - especially one who'd chosen to be turned.

So it was certainly not Valentine's decision Simon was waiting on. It was Clary's, and he didn't quite understand why except for the fact it had something to do with keeping the cover, which was apparently only possible to maintain if Simon was found turned on a do-nothing-day, when everyone was not on high-alert for suspicious activity. Simon supposed it made sense, especially because of Isabelle's involvement. He sigh inwardly, he'd just turned his own family away and yet he still could not fathom the day when he would no longer care for Isabelle - vampire or not. Though he knew Clary was, though subtly, trying her damnedest to bring such a day to fruition. He knew Clary wondered why it was Isabelle Simon could not let go of, even in light of how she had treated him. Simon could not help but continue to wonder the same as well.

As if conjured out of thin air from Simon's thoughts of vampires, Raphael soon appeared to interrupt Simon's wonderings. When he slid out of the darkness, Simon jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Dude what the hell?" Simon exclaimed, trying to bring his heart rate back down.

Raphael did not move a muscle, the only change being the disgust that made an appearance in his eyes. Clearly he didn't like being addressed the way he had been. Simon didn't apologize though. Instead he asked, "What are you doing? Following me?"

The vampire boy's lip curled. As if on cue, more two more vampires stepped out of the shadows around Raphael. It was when the black-haired female vampire stepped up to his right hand that he spoke.

"I have never been in such a position before," Raphael told Simon as-a-matter-of-factly. "I chose you to join me and mine because I believed you had potential."

The female seemed to continue her leader's sentence for him. "You've put us all on some kinda time line, and won't say what game you're even playing," she finished.

"So you're here because you're nervous, think I might be up to no good?" Simon half-heartedly joked. He didn't want to admit he was intimidated having other vampires around him. He'd only ever dealt with Raphael alone.

"My, you might say, advisors," Raphael gestured to his two companions, "that is, those who are closest to me have suggested that you might end up being more trouble with the Nephilim than you are worth. When I offered you immortality and a way out, I did not know you to be so tangled in the affairs of shadowhunters."

Again, the girl seemed to interrupt. "But everywhere you go, they're around. We wanna know sort of thing you've got going," she said to Simon rudely.

"Lily," the other male vampire who had remained silent until then finally spoke the vampire girl's name, but he didn't say anything else. A look towards her was all it took to say _let him talk_. It was probably good timing, Raphael looked irritable after the second interruption. Then again, Simon thought he always looked irritable.

Raphael only stared at Simon, he didn't seem to feel the need to reiterate what Lily had said.

Simon sigh. He was trying to keep his wits about him, but for some unknown reason his temper had flared up, and he couldn't help letting out a humorless laugh. "Wow. This is bull shit. Did you seriously corner me in the dead of night and bring your cronies along to intimidate me because you don't like that I'm hanging with shadowhunters? Finally realized your investment isn't gonna join up after you turn him huh?" he asked, everything he'd said dripping in attitude.

Raphael and Lily's eyes narrowed into slits. It was, of course, Lily who opened her mouth first.

"You don't plan on joining the clan at all. You want us to turn you into one of us and then be on your merry way, off to do whatever it is and bring the stain of it on all of us?" she demanded.

Raphael said nothing.

Simon thought it better not to talk, since he'd probably already said enough stupid things.

"We can't trust you," said the vampire boy who didn't say much, breaking the silence. He looked over at Raphael, seeming to want confirmation for his opinion.

Simon was starting to realize he'd just talked himself into a tight spot. He had just told probably the three most important vampires in New York that if he became one of them, he wouldn't join them and live in whatever dank hole they do for the rest of his eternal life- which was apparently the norm. This was made worse by the fact that Raphael was not speaking.

"_Decepcionante_," he finally said, "I thought we might be friends once you joined us."

"What does this mean?" Simon found himself asking.

"It means," Raphael began, "that your only connection to my clan is my blood. Abandon the waiting game you are playing before it is gone and become immortal, I'll allow it. But once it's gone, it's gone. I will not come back to give you another chance."

"More than you deserve," Lily spit.

"Fine," Simon said quickly, before the three vampires could disappear into the night.

Raphael looked at him expectantly.

"Tonight," Simon said quickly abandoning all pretense. He couldn't risk not becoming a vampire now, after how far he'd come, even for Clary. "Right now."

Raphael seemed to hear the silent _but _because he asked, "What is it?"

"I can't have planned this," Simon told him, dropping his voice somewhat. He wasn't stupid, he knew this would be a difficult thing for the vampires to understand.

Lily scoffed in disbelief. "You expect what? Us to change you and then carry you back to your Nephilim buddies so they won't know it was your choice?" Upon seeing Simon's sheepish expression she continued to say, "Unbelievable. We get to be the bad guys in the story then?" she asked, voice full of venom.

Simon looked at her mutely before just deciding to say "yes," and look at the cement beneath his feet.

Lily and Raphael's other companion hissed.

When Simon looked up again he saw that while the other two looked scandalized, Raphael's curiosity seemed to be getting the better of him. He could understand that. Putting himself in the clan leader's shoes he knew he wondered what endgame Simon could possibly be getting at with this strategy. What the point to his transformation was. He knew that when Raphael had found a lonely geek looking boy crying in a café and offered him a chance to be a part of something, he had never foreseen that boy developing an agenda. This had to be infuriating for him to not understand. Simon let him wonder without worry, Raphael was missing too many details to ever really figure it out. But the mystery of it was clearly working to Simon's favor, despite the vampire's disappointment that his investment wouldn't be joining his group.

"Very well," he finally said, much to the shock of his companions. Then, to Simon's own shock, the clan leader reached out and grabbed his arm. Ten seconds later, no one would have been able to say anyone had been standing on the sidewalk at all.

Alec came back around the corner not even five minutes after he had left Clary standing by the doors alone, he was flanked by Jace and his sister. The former looked irritated, the latter tired. Clary again suppressed the urge to kick something. _So easy_, she thought again bitterly.

"So where is it?" asked Jace, Alec had clearly told him what was going on.

"Huh?" Isabelle asked, seeming to stand a little straighter.

"The Cup," Alec told her and then turned back to Clary expectantly.

Clary made deliberate eye contact with Jace and then looked at the wall as if she had not meant to do so.

"My neighbors house," she finally told the other three. They seemed to wait for more an explanation. Clary sigh. "My mom painted it, uh, the Cup is in a tarot card."

She relieved blank looks. "A card?" said Jace incredulous.

"Yes," said Clary. "A card. My mom's really clever." She hoped the compliment did not sound spiteful. If it did, the others didn't register it. Isabelle even softened a little, as if in sympathy.

"Lead the way," Alec told her at last.

Clary didn't need to be told twice. She turned and bounded out of the institute doors.

On the way to Dorothea's Jace made it a point to chastise Clary for thinking he'd put _his irritation toward childish behavior_ above his _duty_. Clary had rolled her eyes, he'd bristled. Thankfully they'd gotten there relatively quickly, especially for having to walk. When they arrived, the other three had stopped Clary just knocking and stomping right in.

They'd pulled out a sensor, attempting to detect demon energies or the presence of forsaken. Clary, of course, knew they wouldn't pick up anything, the only forsaken in the city were under her father's control, and he had not ordered any forsaken to this part of the city since her mom had been taken and the house was checked and staked out for anything or anyone leading to the Cup. _If only things had been that easy, to be solved by a couple of forsaken_, Clary thought.

Sure enough the _check _didn't result in anything, and Clary was finally allowed to knock, idly wondering how long they'd make her stand there before they realized Dorothea was not coming to the door. Those wonderings were put to rest rather quickly, however, when Dorothea actually did open the door. Clary barely contained her surprise in time.

For a moment she could not stop her mind from considering that the older woman may actually have been a true witch, and what form of witchcraft would allow one to bring oneself back from death. But a familiar feeling interrupted Clary's thoughts, the feeling that always alerted her to the presence of a demon. She relaxed immediately, all of this taking place before her companions had noticed anything the matter with her reaction.

What was even the point of sensors? Couldn't sense her, couldn't sense downworlders, could barely sense demons. She nearly laughed. Instead, she smiled happily at the fake Dorothea, and began considering ways she could play this to her advantage as she greeted the demon and introduced it to the others.

Jace was anything but comfortable with this situation. Madame Dorothea seemed like a kind middle aged woman, but there was something off about her. He felt he was the only one who thought this, however, because Clary was beaming at the woman and Alec and Isabelle did not appear at all apprehensive. Although, if they did, Jace doubted they would show it on their faces. He schooled his expression into one devoid of opinion, that was until the older woman suggested they leave their weapons near the door.

"No offense lady, but pass," Jace said, easily.

"I will not have weapons in my house," the woman said in the tone of a grandmother chastising a few kids on her lawn.

Clary didn't seem to have a problem with this, in fact she seemed to be expecting it. Well, she did know this woman for apparently many years. Alec and Isabelle slowly followed suit after Clary easily dropped her little dagger on the floor. Jace was the last to remove his weaponry, but he carefully left some well hidden in his gear.

Finally, Dorothea led them all to what appeared a sitting room. Judging by the others faces Jace could tell he wasn't the only one who thought it wreaked. But no one said a word about the smell.

"So what brings you to my home?" she asked Clary kindly.

Clary smiled. "Well um. We're looking for something of my moms," she said.

"I don't think I've got anything of Jocelyn's here," Dorothea replied, sounding disappointed.

"Actually you do. My mom gave it to you a while back. A deck of tarot cards she painted, I- er need to see them."

The older woman looked at her curiously for a moment. Then turned and searched around for the deck in question, finally finding them on the shelf facing away from the wall.

Clary seemed to be trying to keep her excitement off her face, Jace couldn't blame her.

As soon as the cards met the skin of Clary's hand she practically wrenched them away from her neighbor, flipping through them quickly until she came upon the Ace. Jace couldn't keep the recognition off his face, and chancing a glance at the others saw that neither Lightwood could either.

"The Cup," Isabelle breathed.

Clary examined the card a moment before saying, "There are runes drawn on it. I should be able to just ..." she didn't bother finishing, instead reaching her whole hand into the card and a moment later wrenching it out. In her hand was the Mortal Cup.

It was only Dorothea's gasp that reminded Jace that she was still there. When he looked up at the woman, the hunger in her eyes gave her away.

"Clary," he began, but he didn't get a chance to complete his sentence before Dorothea sprang up out of her seat and yanked her tidy curtains off the wall. Before they were gone, you would have thought there was a portrait or something behind them and Jace chastised himself for not realizing what they might be concealing soon enough. A black shape came out of the portal and wrapped itself around the pseudo-witch, mangling her and changing her shape completely.

The awful smell of demon hit Alec like a slap in the face. There was a scream. _Clary, of course_, he thought. He could barely keep up with what had just happened. The woman he'd met upon arrival with the others was now a mangled, revolting version of herself staring down at them. There was no question a Greater Demon had taken her place.

"I thought you said demonic activity levels were low!" he found himself shouting in Jace's direction.

"They were!" came the retort.

"Funny, doesn't seem that way does it!" Alec yelled as he and his companions attempted to make a break for the door. Unfortunately, the door didn't seem to approve of that plan.

"Give me the Cup. The Mortal Cup, now and I will let you live," said the demon that used to be Dorothea.

"Like hell," Alec heard Isabelle say.

"You will give me the Cup, I am Abaddon. I am the Demon of the Abyss. Mine are the empty places between the worlds. Mine is the wind and the howling darkness. I am as unlike those mewling things you call demons as an eagle is unlike a fly. You cannot hope to defeat me. Give me the Cup or die."

Clary resisted the urge to giggle at Abaddon's supposedly intimidating monologue. The others looked stricken, and the part of her that was not amused was annoyed. Seriously? This was the kind of talk that little kids played fun at while camping. _I am this that and blah blah blah. Fear me._ It was pathetic. And it was right after the thing finished his stupid speech that Clary decided it was time to take control of this situation. She took the position of hiding behind Jace while he grabbed for his blade and stared up into the demon's face. But she was simultaneously expanding her mind, attempting to enforce her will over that of Abaddon's.

Apparently Greater Demons were harder. But Jonathan had assured her that the only demons she would not be able to control were Lilith, the source of her power, and those who matched Lilith's power. Clary was sure Abaddon did not qualify for that group. So she took a breath and tried harder. Finally, she made a connection.

She tied Abaddon's tongue easily after that, and seized control of its movements. She only had a few seconds to decide what exactly to do with them. It was then that it occurred to her she might never get another chance as good as this to covertly rid herself of Alec Lightwood. She forced Abaddon to strike at him.

Bone talons grabbed at Alec, ripping the skin of his chest before they released him by throwing him toward the far wall. Clary heard Isabelle scream as Alec hit it with a crunch. She saw the Lightwood sister attempt to strike her demon puppet and decided it was time to teach the bitch a little respect. Abaddon backhanded Isabelle so hard blood spattered as the skeletal hand connected with her face, but Clary didn't force her puppet to advance on account of Simon. She began to wonder idly how long it would take to end this now that it had done its job.

It was Jace who took care of it. He hurled himself toward the demon, and Clary only put up a feeble defense. Eventually Jace's seraph blade sunk into Abaddon's chest. As Jace stabbed and stabbed at the greater demon, Clary sunk to the floor as if overwhelmed. "Jace. Jace!" Clary yelled after a few moments. When he looked up at her she said, "Alec."

Immediately Jace seemed to get ahold of himself. He moved toward his fallen companions, and the Greater Demon disappeared only seconds after.


	51. Chapter 51

The gang did not have time for debate, and Jace and Isabelle had their reserves, but there was no denying that using the portal was the fastest way to get Alec help. Especially since marks were not having any effect, _shocker_. So Isabelle and Jace hoisted him up and dragged him through the dead witch's portal, Clary trailing quickly behind them with the special tarot card in hand.

Unfortunately, portaling into the institute wasn't the most possible thing when no one was expecting you to come through on the other side. So the witch's portal only took them to the gate.

"Hodge!" Jace yelled once the four of them had gotten through the doors. Hodge appeared only a moment later, his face curious but immediately portraying concern once he took in Alec's form.

"The infirmary," he told Jace and Isabelle immediately.

He followed the four of them down to the infirmary where they deposited Alec and Clary irritably watched them encourage Hodge to fix the damage she'd done. Couldn't they tell the aid he was providing was half assed and not going to help Alec at all? Maybe they had no idea what to do for wounds that couldn't be fixed with a little design.

At one point, Hodge caught Clary's eye and she could see what he was asking. He actually wanted to help the boy. Clary's eyes pierced him with the refusal.

Clary knew that Hodge was not in this because of any obligation to a cause. He was in this for purely selfish reasons, and Clary was not going to allow his guilt and love regarding kids who were not his own to get in the way of things she'd set into motion. Hodge seemed to be able to read this in her eyes, so he stood up and told the others that he would need to call the Silent Brothers for this.

Clary and, unfortunately, Jace followed him to the library. As soon as they entered Hodge turned on the two of them.

"Did you retrieve the Cup?" asked Hodge.

Jace looked at him in disbelief for a moment, but then recovered.

"Um yeah, but shouldn't you be calling the silent brothers, Alec .."

"I am aware that Alexander needs attention right now Jace, but the Cup is a matter of extreme urgency and-"

Jace cut his tutor off, unable to believe what he was hearing. "And Alec isn't?! He could die!"

"I must ask that you allow me to see the Cup," was all his tutor said.

Something was off right now, Jace could feel it. Hodge had never put their duties in front of their lives before. And Alec was dying in this very building and Hodge was demanding to see an object. And that was why Jace decided not to let Hodge get his hands on the Cup.

Hodge seemed to pick up on this and sigh. Then everything went black.

Jace was down for the count. Clary found herself smiling. She pulled the Cup out of the card she was holding and easily handed it to Hodge. He gripped it like a lifeline while she attempted not to roll her eyes at his over-excitement.

He immediately turned from her and made his way to the portal. Clary suppressed a sigh, not enthusiastic about seeing daddy dearest.

Valentine stepped through almost immediately. Did he really sit around waiting to be summoned to the Cup? Is that what he did all day while she was undercover actually retrieving the Instruments and Jonathan was tailing her? Sitting behind his army of forsaken in his abandoned insane asylum with his darling Maryse, waiting to be called on? That seemed a little pathetic, even for her father. Nonetheless, here he was, the Cup being placed directly in his hand.

Once he had the Mortal Cup in his grasp, he ignored Hodge entirely.

"Ah, Seraphina. You've done well."

Clary grimaced.

"Does this mean I'm done now?" she decided to inquire.

His face was expressionless, as usual, but he said "No. It is much easier to get information from the Nephilim when you are secretly in their ranks."

"But I thought you already knew where the other Instruments were," she insisted. "What other information am I supposed to get?"

"I know where the Sword is, this is true. But the Instruments are not the only thing about which I need you to learn," he said vaguely. Sometimes she wondered if Valentine even knew how to carry out his own plan, but she kept those sort of wonderings to herself. Jonathan knew what he was doing, even if their father did not.

"Whatever," she grumbled at the same time Hodge cleared his throat. Valentine turned to him.

"You promised you would free me if I was the one to present the Cup to you, Sir," he reminded Valentine quietly but somewhat forcefully.

"Starkweather, it is already done. You are free. I might suggest you use this freedom wisely," said Clary's father.

Hodge's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he looked at Valentine and then at Clary. She found herself giving a small nod of her head. Hodge didn't need to be signaled twice. He nearly scurried away, like a small cockroach.

Clary's father looked at her, and then at the floor where Jace still lay.

"This is my son, as I'm sure you know," he had the nerve to say.

Clary scowled. "Your adopted, lesser son," she allowed.

Valentine frowned at her, as if disappointed in this response. "It would be very useful to have Jonathan on our side, do you not agree?"

"We have Jonathan on our side, the real one. Not the knock off," she told him disdainfully.

Now Valentine outright sigh.

"It is time Jonathan is told the truth. That I am his father, that I am alive, and that joining me would be in his best interest."

Clary gaped at him. Now this, this was one situation she hadn't planned for. She'd never even considered that Valentine would want his rejected son back. There were a number of problems with this scenario, ones Valentine would understand and ones he couldn't possibly. Finally, she settled on one that might give him pause.

"What if he refuses you? Then he will have already seen me be involved with you and it'll compromise my place- you said yourself you still wanted me here," she said.

Valentine's expression, which was no expression, did not change.

"I sincerely doubt that Jonathan would refuse me. I am the only true parent he has ever had. And even if he does not listen, he will not see you. I am going to take him with me, and you are going to stay here until I am sure Jonathan understands. Only then will I involve you and your other brother."

Instead of pushing it, she said "Can ... can you at least not call him Jonathan? Jonathan is my brother, this is Jace."

"Jace is your brother just the same Sera," said her father. At least he had given on her request to call Jace a different name. Then again, for all she knew, Maryse may have already made the same request and it had nothing to do with her at all. God knew he didn't take her opinion on names into account. As for the current unforeseen problem, he wasn't going to budge two inches on that either.

She watched silently as Valentine took his _son _into his arms, held the Cup, and walked back into the portal where he'd come from.

Clary cursed silently to herself. This was very bad. He might be all confident that Jace would listen, but even if he did, that would be worse. Clary and Jonathan needed people who would be on their side, like Simon for instance, not those who would be on their side but truly be on Valentine's side. And if Jace really did love his father and listen to him, then he could not be trusted by Clary or her real brother. He would be another obstacle in the way of taking out their father once he'd seized control. Jace could be the reason everything fell apart.

She had to get to him before he agreed to anything. And what if he only agreed because he'd been manipulated and confused? Then the first person who came along talking sense would snap him out of it, and he'd be left with insider information. Maybe Valentine was simply too confident in the lasting effects of Jace's upbringing, and was refusing to see that Jace - the one Clary had come to know who was more or less clueless - was very likely to refuse him if given half the chance.

She wanted to jump through the portal after her father right now and make sure Jace remained ignorant, only she couldn't do that either.

What would Valentine think of her trying to undermine him? Was his mistrusting her worth keeping Jace out of family business? She'd need Jonathan to help her decide about all of this, but first she needed to go tell Isabelle her version of events. She sigh. Hopefully Alec would be dead soon.

"What do you mean Valentine took Jace?!" Isabelle shouted at Clary from her side of Alec's sick bed. Clary had burst into the room in tears, incoherently going on about Jace, Hodge, and Valentine. Isabelle had only caught certain things until she'd forced Clary to take a deep breath and start talking sense. After that, she'd led with Jace supposedly being taken by the bad guy, and here they were.

"I mean he took him! Hodge knocked him out and then he took the Cup from me and he left Valentine _freed _him or s-something and then Valentine must have knocked me out and when I woke up Jace was gone too!" Clary yelled at her.

Isabelle could barely breathe. She'd just said Hodge was gone. That was the only thing her mind could focus on right now. Hodge was gone and Alec ... "Hodge wouldn't just leave. He - he wouldn't. Alec is he's my brother is going to die without help. He just left and he didn't call anyone to help him?!"

Clary's silence said it all to her, her face sunken and her eyes sad for Isabelle.

Just as Isabelle was preparing to begin a last ditch - useless effort with herbs to save her brother, a figure entered the room. Isabelle recognized him: this was Magnus Bane. Isabelle hadn't seen him since the party, but he would have no other reason to be here except to help Alec. Maybe the flirting Isabelle had picked up at the house party had turned into something else, but either way Isabelle was so relieved she could have cried.

For the strangest split second, Isabelle caught sight of Clary's face and it looked sour. Isabelle blinked and Clary looked relieved as she obviously had since Magnus had stepped in the room. Isabelle shook her head, she must have imagined it. Hope surged within her, Magnus would save Alec. She knew it.


	52. Chapter 52

It was dark when he awoke, dank. It smelled like what Simon imagined a pile of corpses would undoubtedly smell like. Rot and rank, but different. Like someone had sprayed perfume on the bodies in an ill attempt to hide the smell and it had only been made fractionally better. Simon was perfectly aware that these comparisons were not simply that, as they could very well be true. God knew that the likelihood of bodies being in here was particularly high. But Simon knew that didn't matter much.

What mattered was the fact that he was alone. Why was he left alone here? What had happened after the talk on the sidewalk? He had assumed they'd taken him here to turn him, but he knew he was still completely mortal. So why take him at all then, and why leave him with absolutely no one watching him? Ten silent, long minutes passed before Simon decided to risk getting up and roaming around. He would not cower in fear of running into vampires, not if that was what he wanted to become. Which it was. Standing up, he became aware of a soreness in his joints. How long had he been out, and had his unconsciousness been natural?

Shrugging to himself, Simon made his way across the room he'd woken up in and exited it. He'd barely made it around the corner when he came face to face with a vampire he'd never met.

"Well, and who might you be?" the lethal female purred.

"Simon," he decided to answer, not having the words or energy to give her his life story that had come to him being here.

She seemed to recognize the name, or maybe she just liked baring her fangs at people. "Raphael has told us all about you. A human who's decided to be like us," she spat at his feet.

"Hey, don't you have any manners?" Simon let slip before he realized he should have just held his tongue.

Immediately, the female grabbed him, her nails digging into his shoulder blade as she slammed him against a, particularly beat up, wall.

"I won't have a pathetic creature like you talking shit like that to me," she told him venomously.

He put up his hands as if to surrender. It didn't matter if he wouldn't be joining this clan, it was probably still best not to piss off every vampire he came across. "What's your name?" he decided to ask.

She stared at him for a minute, her eyes narrowing. "Lily said you were unpredictable and irrational. She said Raphael was making a mistake not just killing you. Don't make me decide that I agree with her."

"All I asked was what your name was?" he phrased it like a question.

He could tell she was deciding just by looking in her purple-ish eyes. They were beautiful eyes. A color he'd never come across before. A blue but more lilac than blue. "Sapphire," she said finally. Then she turned to go.

"Why be angry that I want to be like you guys?" he called after her. He half expected her to just keep walking down the dank hallway and not answer, but she turned.

"People aren't supposed to choose this," she told him quietly. "This isn't supposed to be a choice." And then she was gone.

_Huh_. The first vampire he'd met that didn't seem totally jazzed to be one. He found himself wondering what her story was, and why she'd even told him her name.

"You can't honestly tell me you don't see the problem with this," Clary nearly growled at her brother.

Jonathan looked at her calmly. "It doesn't have to be a problem Clary. You're overthinking this. Jace doesn't have to be a threat to any of our plans."

"Oh sure. Sure. No threat. Just another blindly-loyal body standing between Valentine and our blades. No threat at all."

"You expect us to kill Valentine directly? With blades?" asked Jonathan.

"You said-"

"I said that we would kill him once he's taken power, yes. What I didn't say was that we'd stand there in front of his face and stick a sword through his chest personally. That wouldn't be very fun at all."

"Then how do you expect him to die?" Clary inquired, her patience thin. She didn't like it when her opinions got picked apart.

"Certainly in a more calculated way then that little sister. There are lots of ways for Valentine to die without us getting his blood on our hands. We could of course, we could kill Jace if he tried to protect him too, no problem. You know that, unless you've been doubting your own strength lately?"

Unbelievable. She'd come here with a very bad situation that she expected to be handled, and every problem with it was immediately shredded. It was all she could do not to be irritated. "So what you're suggesting is: we just let this happen. Let Jace be completely worked over by daddy dearest and then welcome him to the fold as our brother? How is that even necessary? Have you even thought about why Valentine even thinks we need him? What can he do that we can't?"

"We have no idea what Jace can do, not even Jace does. He's the only one out of the three of us that doesn't have even a drop of demon blood. The one experiment that was all Heaven and no Hell. Doesn't it interest you what he might be able to do?" Jonathan asked.

Clary's eyes narrowed. "What angle are you trying to pull?"

Jonathan's face was the picture of innocence. "I just think it would be fun, that's all. Imagine it: me and Jace. You and Simon, once he's a vampire. The four of us. Why are you so against that?"

Clary's mouth formed a small _o._

"Unbelievable. You want a brother," she breathed.

Jonathan's face turned to stone.

Clary scoffed. "You are so..." she hit his chest with her bare hand enough that he budged, "ridiculous. All that shit you talked about _angel boy_ after you told me about Jace. I thought you resented him. I thought you thought he was weak and lesser, like he was some pathetic- Oh I can't even do this, I can't _believe _you."

"You're being ridiculous," said Jonathan with a false calmness. It didn't matter. Clary could see right through it now. She could see it all. She finally opened her mind to the world as an eight year old Jonathan would have seen it. Dark, like it was for her. But also that fury. He couldn't have hated his father all those years, even as a child, like she hoped he had. Like she'd hated her mother. Because Clary's mother had been everything Clary wasn't, but Valentine had made Jonathan everything he was.

She realized that hatred he held for Valentine was a gradual sort of thing. Brought on by jealousy and the looks of disappointment Valentine must have handed out just a little too often. Nights being upset that his father, the only person he ever got to spend time with, was always away visiting some other golden boy who he wanted to be around more than him. But kids' minds were strange. They could be forming seeds of hatred and seeds of curiosity at the same time.

If she had been in Jonathan's place, grown up in that place with that manor just across the way, watching her father leave to visit another little girl. Wouldn't she have wondered about that little girl? Wondered what made her more deserving of that time, why her father returned with a small smile that would disappear when he laid eyes on Clary again? Wondered why she and that little girl couldn't just be in the same place, training and learning and living together instead of separated by miles and by everything else? Clary thought she would have, and she knew Jonathan did. Jonathan hated Valentine and he hated Jace. But he also wanted to learn about Jace. He wanted to see if maybe, just maybe, Jace was a little like him. Suddenly jealousy was clouding Clary's thoughts.

"I'm not enough for you, am I?" she asked.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jonathan growled, unaware of everything that had just come to Clary's mind.

"It means I can't be. Not good enough of a sibling for you, not enough like you, not able to ever understand you. Not like you say I could."

"Of course you're enough for me. You always were. I love you and you know that. You are plenty sibling enough for me, you do understand me better than anyone in this world ever could. How can you even question that?" his words were becoming softer, as if he was alarmed that maybe he'd hurt her.

"I can't be," Clary said harshly. "Not if this is happening. Not if you're fine with jeopardizing our entire plan to find out if that boy who grew up across the way might just be like you."

All the softness left his face once again at her words. "I'm not jeopardizing anything, and you're completely wrong about everything you're saying. I don't care about Jace Herondale," he told her.

"Oh bull shit," she said, smacking a piece of debris away with her foot. The alley they were standing in reeked. "You can't pull that shit with me anymore. You don't hate people you don't care about. I understood that you hated _Daddy _because he'd raised you and you couldn't just not care. That's why I hate Jocelyn. But Jace... I really thought he didn't concern you at all. I thought he was just another institute chess piece like Alec or Isabelle, but he's not and you can't pretend that is anymore. I see it now," she said.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You don't need to be here, and we don't have to do anything about Jace. Just let things happen, do what your cover would do."

"Do what my cover would do? You're kidding. My cover is supposed to be in love with him. My cover wouldn't just sit around like oh Jace is gone and that's fine. So that's honestly shitty advice on your part," she shot at him.

"So you're essentially doing what your cover would do right now?" asked Jonathan.

"Oh don't even get that look on your face. I've decided jealousy isn't your most attractive feature."

Jonathan smirked.

Clary ended up right back at the Institute, having accomplished nothing. She wished she could put a hole in the wall. She didn't trust Jace, didn't trust that Jace would not end up being a huge threat to everything she was hoping to make the world into. Perhaps it was the demon in her that didn't trust the angel in him. Only, she never thought she'd come to a place where Jonathan didn't share those instincts. She hated it.

"I know everything's a mess right now Clary," said Isabelle from behind her. She'd probably went to the kitchen to eat something before rejoining a still-unconscious Alec in the infirmary where she'd been for days already. "But Alec will wake up, Magnus promised. And Jace, we'll find him. We love him too."

Clary turned her profile to Isabelle and nodded. She waited until Isabelle's steps faded down the hall to scoff into the silence and roll her eyes irritably.


	53. Chapter 53

After wandering around the reeking hotel for nearly a half hour, Simon finally discovered where the rest of the clan dwelt. That was: in a large lobby type area at the bottom of the stairs. But discovering the vampires was not seeming like the best thing to have done just now, since Raphael was nowhere in sight and his underlings were looking a bit too hungry for Simons liking. He didn't get why he was he even in this precarious situation, or why he had woken up alone and still human on the fourth floor instead of being turned immediately as Raphael said on the street. A thought that Simon was profusely trying to deny once again flitted through his mind: that maybe this was all part of some elaborate ruse to get an easy meal without having to take responsibility for it with the Nephilim. He might have walked towards a trap stupidly thinking he was walking toward a prolonged future. Could he really have been this dense? A muscular, lethal looking vampire was suddenly standing right in front of him, and seeing the look in his eyes, Simon had begun to curse Raphael's name as well as his own. But it didn't make sense, why would someone as powerful as Raphael obviously was go to such trouble only to eat a sad lone teenage boy, surely there were easier pickings. Even still, Simon took a step back and away from the scary looking blood drinker. This caused said individual to smile chillingly. No. He was only being paranoid. Sapphire had said she'd heard about him and his choice from Raphael himself. Surely he wouldn't lie to the members of his own clan about a meal, Simon hoped. So why did this brute look so eager to sink his fangs into something?

Someone cleared their throat obviously. Turning silently, Simon saw with relief that it was in fact the vampire leader. Raphael did not look as if he was feeling any emotion at all. Simon supposed that was better than looking mad. But as soon as Raphael laid eyes on Simon he scowled and Simon cringed.

"Exploring Lewis?" said the vampire boy.

Simon did not know how to respond, so all he said was, "I just want to know what's going on."

Raphael looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes. "Nothing that concerns you. You should not have come down, we are not ready for you."

The vampire clan hissed in a way that suggested they disagree, but Raphael silenced them all with a look.

"I thought you were the one who insisted I come right now. If you weren't going to-"

Raphael tsked and bared his teeth. "I'm only down here right now because I wanted to be sure you were not drained and dead before I held up my end. It's not an interruption I appreciate. Especially for someone who is causing me so much unnecessary trouble already. Have the good sense to go back to where I put you. I have something more important to deal with right now." With that, Raphael turned and stalked up the stairs from which he'd come.

Simon thought that might have been the most Raphael had spoken to him. He didn't need to be told twice, he sprinted after Raphael only seconds after he was out of sight. Being alone with the clan was clearly not a good idea. Only, Simon's curiosity was becoming a lot to manage. He simply could not understand why he was given the option of coming or never being turned if he was only going to be stashed away until Raphael got around to him anyway. The leader had claimed he suddenly had other things to deal with, and Simon was rapidly developing the need to know what that was. So instead of continuing up the stairs to the fourth floor on which he'd woke, he stopped at the third floor where Raphael had gone. Something unexpected was going on, something Raphael didn't like, and Simon simply did not have it in him to resist.

Jace woke with a start, his heart clapping against his chest at a mile a minute. Had it been a dream? Could he possibly have been betrayed by a man who had been there for him since he was still a child? He was very worried for Alec as well, fearing that his parabatai dead by now because of it. No, he would know if Alec were dead. That was part of their bond, he would feel the connection lost. Alec had to still be alive, at least for now. But there was no way of knowing how well he was fairing. If that hadn't been a dream, though, then where was he? Looking around him, his surroundings appeared to be that of a hospital room or similar to one. The man in the chair by the bed in which he lay looked like ... No. Impossible. Jace's heart once again leaped into a gallop. No. No it simply could not be him. He was dead. Jace had personally seen him killed in their home while he hid like a cowardly boy. It was impossible that this man was his father, but when the man flinched and then looked up, as if knowing Jace was staring, he smiled. "Hello Jonathan," was all his father said.

There was a few beats of utterly shocked silence, and then Jace for some reason found himself saying, "Jace. My name is Jace now."

"Of course. Maryse gave you that name correct?" his dead father asked him.

Jace was thought he ought to be having more trouble using his words than this, but he somehow was responding. "Yes ... she did."

His father nodded. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions Jon- Jace. I can answer them, of course. But before I do I must tell you my name is not Michael Wayland. And Wayland is not the name you were meant to bare."

Jace was too shocked at his very presence to grasp anything his father said right now. So he only asked the obvious question, "What is your name than?"

"Valentine Morgenstern," said his father, and Jace could not speak a word more.

Simon wished dearly that this old hotel was not so creaky and that his every step did not boom in his ears as he made his way down the hall of the third floor.

Simon was not stupid, though he may have been acting like it, he knew that whatever Raphael was up to was not something the leader would want him aware of. Or perhaps anyone, since his clan had hissed at being denied at Simon's blood. Nonetheless, Simon continued his exploring, listening for any sign of voices. Finally, he heard it in the room to the left of him. He prayed he hadn't been heard snooping.

"You're being unreasonable," said a female voice. Simon recognized it, he'd heard it not an hour before. Sapphire.

"I simply do not trust you _Zafira_," said Raphael's voice.

"Raphael please. I value my life, I would never breathe a word about Camille to any of them I swear."

Simon didn't bother trying to figure out who they were talking about, but he kept listening.

"Ah, but I do not believe you. You would not have found out the truth about her absence if you did not support her."

"But-" Sapphire began but she was cut off.

"And I'm afraid you are not alone. Many among us love and support Camille more so than me."

Sapphire seemed to bristle at this and her change in tone and purpose confirmed it. "Camille created us! And she's always taken care of us. She deserves to have people here who are loyal to her."

"You have no idea the jeopardy she has nearly put us in. I am pr-"

"What could she have possibly done to have you run her out and trick us into submitting to you. I joined this clan under her. I will not allow you-"

"And just what are you going to do? I am decades your senior, girl," Raphael spit, sounding much older and temperamental than Simon could ever recall him seeming. Apparently, Sapphire felt the same, because she quieted and from around the corner Simon saw her eyes had widened to shocked circles. Raphael took a deep breath, and the next time he spoke the man he had been for a few moments had vanished.

"I will give you this chance to simply leave the clan and not make contact again. This will be your only out," he said, sounding like his usual fifteen year old self. Bored and young. But now that Simon had had a taste of the God-knew-how-old man that lay under the youthful face, he didn't think he could look at Raphael the same again.

Sapphire silently stood up and was about to make her way to the door, looking bitter, until Raphael said, "Wait."

"What?" she spit at him. Apparently there would be no more pleasantries from Sapphire. Simon supposed that made sense. After all, Raphael had apparently just forced her out of the only home she'd known, the only friends she's had, for likely a long long while. All because of this unknown Camille person who was apparently supposed to still be here and leading in Raphael's place.

"Lewis," said Raphael finally, and Simon stiffened. He didn't dare move until, "We can hear you breathing."

Trying to push his fear deep within him and show only ease, Simon entered the room. "Look I'm sorry I was just walking by and I -"

"It's really not necessary for you to bother with lies," said Raphael. Simon denied the urge to gulp. "I'll admit I should have noticed you sooner, but since I didn't: any deal you have managed to claw out of me is broken. It's a wonder I bothered with you for so long. The annoyance you've caused me has breached a line. Sapphire is to leave, but my clan will not be denied your blood. And since you now know far more than I wanted you to, they will permitted to all of it."

Simon stared at him. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. He knew he had been a thorn in Raphael's side, and the lack of reaction to it had dulled his fear. He'd been stupid, and he was going to die for it. So he made a last ditch effort. "The Nephilim-"

"You basically walked in here willingly. You've done everything willingly. There are no Nephilim laws that would be broken if we killed you, as we shall."

"Honestly-" Sapphire began, much to Simon's surprise. Raphael gave her a dangerous look to silence her, but it had the opposite effect. Something in her was clearly over being put down like a child, especially when she barely viewed Raphael as a leader.

"No. I won't have you killing this ignorant boy because of your own lies. And I swear if he doesn't leave here right behind me, I will run down those stairs screaming about your own lies to everyone down there who will listen to me. As you said, I am not alone in my views," she finished.

Both Simon and herself seemed shocked at Sapphire's words. The girl looked as though she couldn't believe she said them. But she still let them hang in the air, every second a risk to her life. In Raphael's eyes he seemed to be calculating Sapphire's speed against his own, as if both Simon's and her own life rested in how many vampires would hear her before she was killed. Apparently, Raphael didn't like the percentage he had come to rest on.

"Fifteen seconds," said the vampire leader.

That was apparently all Sapphire needed to hear. In milliseconds she had stood and wrenched Simon with her out the door. Simon barely blinked four times before Sapphire had rushed the both of them down the stairs, past the curious vampires who had once been her own companions, and out into the night. The vampire girl took Simon far away from Hotel Dumort, which it was apparently called, before he decided it was safe to speak to her.

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded, not harshly but firmly.

She whirled on him, pain plain on her face and fire in her blueish purple eyes. "You have no right to even ask me that question. Do you understand what I've just done for you? Camille gave me everything, everything, and I just gave up any chance I had of helping her for your scrawny, useless, stupid ass."

"He wanted to kill you too if I recall," was all Simon could think to say.

She scoffed at him. "I didn't care if he killed me. Not after I saw him for what he really was. I just wanted the rest of the clan to know. I'm not the only one who owes Camille everything, and if I could have gotten myself out of that and found a way to spread the info... I could have gotten Raphael out. Everything could have been the way it was-" she seemed to choke off.

"Look. I don't know who Camille is. But- but I'm sure she would understand. She must care about you right?" he asked, somehow doubting the answer was yes even as he asked.

The steel in her eyes was confirmation enough. "I just abandoned her. She saved me and I abandoned her. I'm no better than that pathetic, awful excuse for a clan leader."

"To me you are," Simon said quietly.

She just looked at him.

"You saved me. So ... now it's me who owes you everything. I would be a drained, dead body back in that reeking hotel by now if it wasn't for you. So you're pretty much the savior now," he told her.

For a moment she didn't respond. "... I don't know what to do now. I- I could have given it all up for the one person who gave me everything when I had nothing. But instead I gave it all up for some disgusting human who means nothing to me..."

Simon tried not to take offense, failed, and then shoved it down. "How did Camille give you everything? I thought you had just lectured me about my choice to become a vampire. You were like _it shouldn't be a choice blah blah._"

"She didn't save me by turning me you idiot." She looked at him for a moment more, and when Simon didn't respond, she sigh and then launched into all the information Simon was missing. He didn't dare interrupt her. "I was turned twenty years before Camille came across me," she paused to sigh again. "I was a good Christian girl before I was this. And when I became a monster I ... I caved in on myself. When she found me, I was in a sewer feeding on a rat and clutching a cross while my hand melted off. She- she saved me from that. Taught me differently from what my parents had, taught me that being this was okay. And I was finally, finally comfortable like this when she was just suddenly gone, and he was suddenly in charge. I didn't understand but I thought he was being honest, so I followed. But so long passed and I couldn't let it go. I needed to know if something else had happened to her, and it had. He tossed her away like yesterday's garbage because she'd broken a few stupid rules or whatever. I wasn't going to stand for it, but when I mustered the will to confront him about it, suddenly you were all anyone was talking about. The boy Raphael had made promises to, some boy who had decided to be this, sleeping somewhere upstairs to be turned when he woke. And I couldn't get in one word until I said Camille's name. _What would Camille think about him?_ was all I said, and then I somehow had every ounce of attention. The attention I'd wanted for days. Once he'd effectively shut me down, for the sake of his reputation of course, he took me aside practically by my hair and ripped my throat out. I'm ashamed to admit he scared me, enough to shut up for the time being. But then you were awake and I was talking to you and somehow I had all the courage he'd stolen with just a few sentences and I went to find him again. The rest you were there for. So tell me, Simon Lewis, why would I do that? For you? For a selfish nobody? Why would I turn away from the one person who'd saved my life, for you?"

Simon was struck into silence. He'd barely dared to breathe the entire time she'd spoken. And now with all of it on the table, or at least a lot of it, he didn't know where to began. All he knew for sure was that he did not have an answer for her. She was right, it made absolutely no sense what she'd done for him. She was prepared to die to return this mysterious Camille to her supposedly rightful position, and she hadn't. For him. He had no explanation to offer, so he opted to say, "Thank you."

She just rolled her eyes at him. Now that she was done with her tale she seemed to have nothing more to say to him. But when a few moments passed and neither of them had moved, she spoke again. "What are you waiting for? Leave."

"I ..." Simon couldn't just walk away. He had been trying to deny it since the moment Raphael had said their deal was broken, but now it came crashing down on him. He wouldn't become a vampire. He would never make a use of himself to Clary or Jonathan, would never be anything but Clary's harmless, useless human friend. Another responsibility for her to look after just as he had always been. "I have nowhere to go," he finished, and it was true. He wouldn't go back to Clary when he could be of no use to her. Simon had made up his mind not be a burden to her a long while back, and just because his deal was no longer possible didn't mean he'd changed his mind about that.

"No. That would be me who has nowhere to go. You can go back to your safe haven with your precious Nephilim," said Sapphire bitterly.

Simon gave a humorless laugh. "I don't care about the Nephilim," he told her.

At this, her eyebrows rose and her eyes flickered with surprise. "Oh? Then why the connection to them then?"

"It's complicated," said Simon.

Sapphire scowled and turned from him. She began to walk away. Simon immediately followed after her. "Hey! Don't just leave me here. I told you I have nowhere to go."

"Bull shit" she said, not pausing in her walk. "Claim you don't care but clearly you care enough to keep your mouth shut."

"I-"

"Look I didn't ask for any kind of gratitude. I knew I was making a mistake as soon as I went to bat for you. It's not your fault I was right. So just go back to the shadowhunters you love so much and don't think about me again."

Much to Simon's own surprise, he found himself reaching out and grabbing her arm, turning her back to face him. Seeing the look on her face he promptly dropped his arm, but still spoke.

"I would explain but I just don't know anything about who you are as a person. The kind of thing you're asking to understand is sensitive stuff. I ... I don't know if I can trust you," he told her.

She laughed, there was no humor in it. "And just who would I tell your secrets to Simon Lewis? I don't have anyone anymore."

He frowned. This might end up being the stupidest thing he had done, but he decided to tell her some of the truth. "I want to bring down the Nephilim."

This time when she laughed, it seemed genuine. Like what he had said was the funniest thing in the world. He supposed he should have been expecting that. "You and what army?" she got out between giggles.

"You don't need an army when you have demon hybrids," he told her.

Her giggles subsided and she stared at him, as if expecting he was insane. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Simon sigh and then began explaining Clary and Jonathan to her. At the name _Valentine Morgenstern _she genuinely sobered up. When he'd finished, she didn't say a word for nearly a whole minute. When she did open her mouth it was to say, "You got yourself tangled up in a nasty web there human boy."

"Not anymore," he sigh. "This is where uh .. let it all go I guess."

She looked at him in confusion. "But you said you er... you said this Clary chick is special to you. I thought she needed you?" The tone in her voice was suggesting she was again thinking about how she'd evidently let her Camille down.

"She does. Well I mean I like to think she does, but it's not me she needs. She needed the me I was going to be, before I messed it up," he admitted.

Her lip curled back. "She wanted you to sell your soul so you'd be more useful to her," it wasn't a question.

Simon bristled. "Isn't that what Camille would have expected from you?"

In reply, Sapphire hissed at him. But then, she seemed to think about what he said. "Yes," she whispered. The word seemed to shock her.

"Well at least now you don't have to worry about Camille anymore. You can decide right now to let go. Don't go looking for her or risking anything for her," he suggested.

It took Sapphire a moment, but she eventually mumbled, "There's nothing I have left to risk for her anyway. I'm just one vampire. I can't go back to the clan, and even if I did go back they would never trust a word I said anymore after the lies Raphael has no doubt told them about me even in the last twenty minutes, I'm really no use to Camille. But," she looked at him, "maybe I could be useful to someone else. What is it exactly that you and your demon friends are planning to do again?"

So Simon told her. He told her about the world Clary wanted to build, where humans would exist only for a blood source, and evil would be a living breathing thing. Demon kind and their kin would roam free and therefore be content. Nothing would be hard anymore. Simon did his best not to shudder through any of it, but Sapphire seemed to like the sound of it. Perhaps this world had been just a little too hard on her. After all, sitting in sewers drinking rats for twenty years and fearing all the while that God would strike you down if you took a wrong step toward a human couldn't have been the greatest way to live. Easy probably sounded pretty damn great to her. And, Simon thought with a jolt, maybe he could use that. After all, he didn't absolutely need Raphael and his clan to be turned. He had a vampire right here, all he really needed was for her to agree to go for it.

"One thing I don't understand," Sapphire began after he finished his pitch. "Why do you want this? You're a human. That must sound like a nightmare to you."

She was right, as a human it did. But to a vampire version of him, eternity with Clary and Jonathan in peace sounded just fine. "Trust me, it took me a while to be back on her side after I found out what she wanted to do, but in the end I want what Clary wants. And I wanted to be there with her... I guess that part is gone now. But either way, she would protect me. I just don't want her to have to. And that's why I won't go back to her like this," he said carefully.

Sapphire seemed to be weighing his words in her eyes. "I can't believe I'm saying this," she started while Simon's heart galloped, "but I could do it. It doesn't have to be Raphael you know."

Simon had to be cautious now. This girl was unpredictable. One second she was saving him and the next she hated him and now she was offering to help him. If he said the wrong words, she could be gone in seconds.

"Why would you do that for me?" he asked.

"I guess I understand you. I thought you wanted this for yourself, for the power. Because you were stupid, but you're not. You just want to not be useless, I can understand that," she said.

He just looked at her.

"So?" she asked.

"Oh. Yes, I mean of course. Uh thank you," said Simon.

She just rolled her eyes at him, and then she pounced.


	54. Chapter 54

Isabelle Lightwood was not totally aware of the passage of time. She was somewhat numb. All she did was sit in her chair next to Alec's sick bed, wishing he would wake up or that Jace was here to comfort her. Alec would be fine, Magnus Bane had promised. But he'd left some time ago, or perhaps he'd left some minutes ago. Isabelle was not sure and, as long as Alec's eyes were closed, it did not truly matter. Because Jace was with Valentine Morgenstern, and she could not get him back alone. Not without Alec.

Where the hell was Simon Lewis? That's what Clary was wondering, or more like obsessing, about. He had high tailed it out of the institute days ago. And in all the Mortal Cup excitement that had followed, Clary had not given much thought to the fact she'd not heard so much of a peep from him. Now, she'd just called his cell phone for the fifteenth time. This time there was an answer. But it was not Simon.

"Whoever you keep calling ditched his phone in a dumpster. It was fair game. Stop calling it." The line went dead.

Clary was gonna kill Simon. How long ago had he ditched the phone, and why hadn't he let Clary know he was fine? Clary began mumbling a string of profanities. But why mumble? No one would hear anything as it was. Isabelle had been at Alec's bedside since the warlock had healed him thirty two hours ago. As if that wasn't annoying enough, she'd gotten no updates from her brother since their argument. Clary couldn't figure out why she was sitting here doing nothing, with no recent information. Was Jace being receptive? Clary had relented in the argument, but she still had the feeling she would be proven right. It would take more than _Jace I am your father_ to get golden boy to give up his wings. But Jace was not the current problem, at least until she got any news, Simon was. Clary quickly decided if she could not call him, she'd have to track him. It had been a while since she'd used her skills but she knew she still could, no problem. Hopefully Simon was just being Simon and was fine, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway. She quickly got up and left the institute.

Jace's father- Valentine had left some time ago, and Jace had not moved an inch from the bed where he'd originally woken. Time seemed to be going in slow motion. His father had had an explanation for the many lies he'd told Jace, including the biggest of all: his death - but it hadn't seemed real. It certainly hadn't seemed like enough. No matter how hard he tried, Jace could not seem to wrap his mind around it. Nothing was as it had seemed. Valentine was not what the stories said. Could it be possible that everything Jace had heard had been a misunderstanding? Something the Clave constructed to make themselves appear to not be responsible? The way his father had explained it... it seemed completely plausible. True.

Jace wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe the man who had raised him. He wanted to be trusted and to make him proud, he'd wanted the same when he was young. Maybe the beginning of that was taking him at his word. Maybe that was the test, and a more detailed explanation of the past near decade would come shortly after his father knew he could be trusted again.

Things couldn't be- weren't as Jace had always believed. He could no longer stand to think about anything at all. He closed his eyes and tried again to sink into the oblivion of sleep.

"You know," said Maryse Lightwood. "I've gotten so used to speaking to you. It's odd really."

As usual, Jocelyn did not respond. Not so much as a finger moving a fraction of an inch. There was never a change. The ginger woman simply lay, chained to the bed, utterly unconscious. Maryse was not sure why she had started speaking to her in the first place. She supposed it seemed as good a thing to do as any in this hollow place she'd been living in. Now the talking had become a habit. She'd come to this room and sit in the chair next to Jocelyn's bed, and speak to her about the children. Mostly Jonathan, sometimes Clary. She'd also brag about Jace, even though he had nothing to do with Jocelyn. Jace was the son of Valentine's that was all Maryse's. A perfect angel while Jocelyn's children were abominations. She admitted that was a large source of her pride.

"Anyway, I suppose you might be interested to know what's going on." At this point, Maryse didn't care if the other woman could hear her, this was all moot anyway. Jocelyn would die before she ever had the chance to wake. "Valentine has brought Jace to us. He assures me our son will learn to trust him again, and then me. I admit I'm a bit concerned he won't listen to reason, Jace has always been headstrong you know, but Valentine promises he will." Maryse stopped. There wasn't much else to say. She'd not seen Jocelyn's children in some time, for which she was grateful, so she didn't have anything to tell about them this time. The last she'd heard, Sera was doing well at the institute and Jonathan was out and about ... someplace. It didn't matter to Maryse. She suspected it didn't matter to Jocelyn either if she could hear her. No one wants to hear about the son they left behind. That was probably why when she did have information about Jonathan, she would prattle on about him to Jocelyn for long periods of time. Simply because she knew that awake, the redhead wouldn't stand for it. Maryse would know.

"I don't say much about them to Valentine," began Maryse under her breath, "but I miss my own children. He doesn't like to hear about Alec and Isabelle, or especially not Max, as you can imagine. I can just tell it bothers him, but I do miss them. I wonder if they're at all worried at my absence. Max, doubtful. Alec and Isabelle, well I told them to leave me be, of course, but nothing else. It's been too long of a while. And that's not going to change soon. I sometimes fear ... if Valentine takes too long to take hold of the Clave, will my children have already forgotten me? Will I be able to have them understand?"

Nothing. Jocelyn wouldn't be offering her any answers. Maryse scowled at the sleeping woman who had once upon a time been her friend. It seemed nearly another life entirely. A life where she'd come in second. She made the mistake of imagining for a moment how Jocelyn would look at her if she were awake right now. She could nearly hear the words. _Oh Maryse, what has happened to you? _She shook her head angrily as if to eradicate any doubts and quickly left the sleeping woman alone.

Jonathan was doing as his father asked, staying away from Renwick's while Jace was being told he was, well, Jonathan. The real Jonathan gritted his teeth, regretting how his argument with Clary had gone about this very same topic. He was wrong and she was right and he was all too aware of it. But stubborn was apparently the Morgenstern specialty. So while he waited for his father to contact him, he watched the institute where his sister spent her days. Apparently not her nights, though, he thought as he watched the lithe figure that belonged to his sister dart out the institute doors and down the street. He idly wondered what she was up to as he raced into the night after her.

At first, Simon couldn't register anything except for the taste of dirt in his mouth. Slowly, the feeling in his body started coming back. It didn't take him long after that to realize he was stuck. Dirt, he was buried in dirt. What was going on? _First, focus on getting out_, he ordered himself. Questions could wait. He clawed at the dirt all around him, at the space he hoped was above him and not below. He couldn't even tell what direction he was facing, he was packed in so tightly. But still he clawed with everything he had in him. It seemed to go on for hours, but it might have only been minutes. Finally, he broke the surface. Good that he had been clawing out and not in deeper than. At this point, he was past half-crazed. Part of him didn't even understand why. He'd just dug himself out of a grave, he should be thrilled to be alive. But he didn't feel thrilled, much less alive. No, too many things were occurring to him at once. Like the fact he felt hollow, and his heart didn't seem to be beating. Perhaps the most powerful was the need to drink something. He was so thirsty he thought he might collapse, so thirsty he couldn't get a bearing on anything around him.

That was when the smell hit him. The aroma had no words to it. It didn't take but a few seconds to see where it was coming from after that. A girl, he recognized her, was standing in front of him. Her eyes were ... It didn't matter. What mattered was what she was holding onto to. Another girl, petite in comparison, her arm clenched in the other girls' grasp and struggling. The smell.

Before Simon even knew what had happened, his teeth - teeth? - were pressed into the petite girl's neck. Blood, that's what the smell had been. This girl's blood. Simon was crazed, he simply could not drink the stuff fast enough. There was nothing he'd ever tasted that was good enough to be compared with it. Before long, there was no more.

_What?_

The blood had stopped flowing. No. No, there had to be more.

"Easy tiger," said a voice. Two strong arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him away from the blood source, yanked was more like it. "There's no more in her. You want more, you'll have to find someone else."

Slowly Simon turned to face the girl who'd spoken.

Sapphire. Her name came to his mind, followed by everything else he'd temporarily forgotten about himself. Which was, well, everything.

"Oh," said Simon.

"Sorry I didn't warn you about the burial part. It's kinda required. Don't freak about the thoughtless blood frenzy, happens to all of us too," Sapphire informed him.

Simon looked around him. They were standing in a park. His grave, which looked like it might have been about four or so feet deep, was a little to the left of him. There was a playground in the distance to his right. He looked at the ground behind him and saw a little girl. She looked like she might have been about fourteen, and she was dead.

"Hey, don't," Sapphire ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

He looked up at her in surprise.

"Don't be one of those that gets all weepy at first. _Oh boo hoo I killed a kid I'm a monster. Blah blah blah._"

Simon didn't know what response she was expecting, but he said the first thing that came to mind. "Um. Isn't that what you did?"

_Insulted _was an understatement for the look on her face.

Simon cut her off before she grit-speak at him. "I just meant you said you were a Christian and everything so I just thought-"

"Shut up," she told him.

He obliged. Then looked back at the body on the ground, barely more than a kid. "Why would you pick her? Why not-"

"It doesn't matter. That's the first thing you need to understand. I chose her because you need to learn that it doesn't matter which mundanes you kill and which ones you don't, they're all mundanes." The way she said mundane made the message clear enough: _lesser than we are_.

Just months ago, Simon would have looked on the body on the ground and cried about her. He was sure of that. But if Clary and Jonathan - the only two people who could truly matter anymore - were going to get what they wanted, most mundanes would be killed anyway. He was a vampire now. Simon found it much easier to push down his guilt than ever before. They were mundanes, their lives were almost up, and Simon was still thirsty.

"You're right. I'm good. Where do I get more blood?"

Sapphire seemed surprised for a moment, her eyebrows raised, but then she regained her composure. She smiled at him, showing off her fangs like they were her favorite feature. Simon thought she was beautiful, and terrible too. He found himself smiling back, doing the very same thing.


	55. Chapter 55

"This is feeling a little deja vu don't you think?" said the redhead into the dark, not bothering to look over her shoulder. Her brother was next to her in the next moment, his smile making her want to warm up. _Focus_, she scolded herself. After all, they had just had an argument. "You following me to apologize?" she asked.

"Apologize for?" came the reply.

The red head rolled her eyes.

"How about one thing at a time?" The white haired boy suggested. "Where are you headed?"

"Not sure," Clary replied as she walked.

There was still a smile in Jonathan's voice as he asked, "Do I get an explanation?"

She felt her lips curling upward for a moment, but then she remembered what she was doing and her face set in a mask. "Seen Simon lately?" she said as if it were a reply and not a question. She glanced over at her brother, now walking beside her, and saw his smile disappear. There was no need, but he said, "No."

"That's where I'm going," she explained.

"You know where he is or you're tracking him?"

"Tracking. Wherever he is, he ditched his phone. I'm dropping by his mom's place first. Maybe he ... relapsed?"

Jonathan let out a scoff of laughter next to her. "Nah, not likely. Simon chose us Clary, I know it's hard for you to believe that something could go well and stay that way but it did and it will. Simon's not gonna start pointing his finger at your nose and yelling murderer again. Trust me."

She did trust him, but he was right: it was her luck she didn't trust.

Finally the two of them made it to Simon's former front door and Clary looked at Jonathan expectantly.

"Right," he said and then melted into shadow.

She knocked on the door. She realized that daybreak was in about two hours, and that it was rare for mundanes to be awake at this hour just a little too late. Which is why she was amazed when just a short minute later, the door opened.

On the threshold stood Simon's mom, but not. She looked gaunt, like she had aged years since the last time she'd seen her. Right, Clary reminded herself, her son had a habit of disappearing lately. Clary couldn't help feeling glad that it had been his mom who had to worry about him most of the time and not she. She might have smiled, but she didn't get the chance. Simon's mom nearly slammed the door in her face. Only Clary's quick reflexes allowed her to get her foot in the door, which had been pushed so hard she imagined it might have broken a mundane's foot, but Clary was too strong. Simon's mother stared at her with such hatred, she imagined a naive version of herself would have backed up a step. But Clary just fixed her with steel right back.

"You happen to see Simon around lately Mrs. Lewis?" she asked.

The older woman's face went from hate to spiteful disgust. "I can see that devil's smile in your eyes Clary. I think I always could. You know my son left me and he isn't coming back because of you, so leave, and don't darken my doorstep again."

Clary smiled her full _devil's smile_ at the woman. "Always a pleasure Elaine."

The door slammed fully this time. Simon was going give her hell for that ... if she ever found him.

Jonathan's delicious laugh rang into the night only a moment after the door closed. Clary smirked.

"He's not here," she told him matter-of-factly.

There was still a laugh in his voice. "Clearly. Now that was entertainment. No wonder Simon was such a good little jewish boy."

Clary scowled. Her brother put up his hands, still smiling.

"Let's just keep looking."

Finally, Simon's scent brought them all the way to a park on the other side of town. When her eyes rested on the upturned soil, her heart nearly stopped.

"Is that a ..." she began, unable to finish.

Jonathan didn't say a word, instead he made his way over to the filled in hole in the ground and started digging. It took a moment, but Clary forced herself to join him. Three feet of dirt later, Clary found a human hand. For a moment, all she could do was stare at it. But then she realized that the hand was much too small and feminine to be Simon's, and her lungs expanded again. Jonathan reached in and pulled the rest of the body out of the small pit. It was that of a young girl, probably around fourteen, and fresh. She had died within the last few hours. But Clary didn't imagine who would kill a girl and then bury her in a shallow ditch in the park where any mundane could spot. Then she saw the bite marks on the girl's neck.

Jonathan did not say a word, but his face said _oh_.

"I ... am gonna kill him," stated Clary.

"Pretty safe to assume that's already been done," Jonathan replied.

Clary scowled deeper. "Just get the body and let's go."

Alec's face was so peaceful in sleep. He looked youthful, like nothing rested so heavily on his shoulders. It was an allusion of course, but while he slept it was easier for Isabelle to imagine it was true. But even if that allusion was a nice one, she would still rather have him awake and healthy. And this was what Isabelle was thinking when her brother's hand squeezed hers. She nearly jumped, she was taken so off guard. Had she imagined it, or was he waking up? She got her answer moments later when his eyelids fluttered and his blue eyes met the world once again.

"Isabelle?" His voice was hoarse.

Isabelle was a trained warrior, strong and self-assured and able to handle anything, so, of course, she burst into tears.

"Hey it's okay," he told her while she hugged him.

Isabelle allowed herself another moment, and then she pulled herself back together. "Magnus was sure you'd be alright but I've been waiting and after a while..." She didn't need to finish.

"Magnus helped?" Her brother asked, something in his voice.

"Yeah, he saved you when Hodge..." Isabelle sigh. "I have a lot to tell you."

"Simon," Sapphire hissed.

"What?" Simon hissed back, his fangs inches from a girl's neck.

"I'm bored and I'm full. Let's just go," she insisted.

"Just give me a sec," he told her, and then the girl stopped squirming.

"Seriously," Sapphire pouted from behind him. "That's like the third one."

A few seconds later, Simon dropped the girl. He smiled at Sapphire, his face was a mess of blood. She tsked before she made her way over to him and began cleaning off the blood around his lips with her fingers. "You'll learn not to make such a mess like this. And you can't just leave her there, she's not even dead."

"Oh right," said Simon, and bent over like he was going to fix that fact.

Sapphire kicked him in the stomach to keep him from the girl. "You don't have to kill her you idiot," she told him sourly.

He just looked at her questioningly and she sigh. "There are rules. Nephilim. I'd think you'd know that."

"She's right," came a very angry voice from many feet away.

Simon closed his eyes, which was Sapphires clue that he was thinking something like _fuck_. Her body tensed in response.

An unfamiliar red headed girl who was so small she could have passed for fourteen but seemed much older appeared next to Simon so quickly it was like she had materialized out of thin air instead of ran across a courtyard.

Sapphire backed up a few steps, almost against her will. The redhead radiated power, she made Sapphire want to run in the other direction. She seemed to want to say something, but it was as if she were too angry to form the words. She just stared Simon down. To Sapphire's amazement he stared right back, not intimidated.

And then there was a boy there. He'd also appeared from nowhere. His hair was stark white, but unlike the girl his eyes were black as the night around them.

Sapphire found herself stepping a little closer to Simon. He did not seem to fear either of the newcomers at all. He just looked like he wanted to sigh.

"Clary," Simon began.

"Don't. Don't speak yet," said Clary through clenched teeth.

Sapphire wanted to slap her own forehead. She should have known right away who these two were. Simon's demon besties. It was obvious the two of them were brother and sister now.

The white haired boy, Jonathan, Sapphire remembered Simon calling him, looked at the girl next to Simon's feet. "At least this one's alive," he said in a way that made it clear they'd found the others.

To Sapphire's horror, the redhead turned her glare towards her. "Who's this?" she asked in a scary-calm tone.

Simon stepped in front of Sapphire. "A friend."

"A friend who sired you," she sneered.

"Actually yes," said Simon.

The girl's face became a mask. "Start talking."

So Simon did. Clary stared right at Sapphire the entire time he spoke. When Simon explained that she had saved him and then turned him, Clary stopped looking like she wanted to kill her. But Sapphire didn't relax. Jonathan's expression never changed. Sapphire could only say he looked bored, which unnerved her. Finally, there was silence.

Clary took a deep breath. "Alec is still incapacitated. But you're the one who's going to have to think of something really astounding to tell Isabelle, because if you don't neither of them are going to trust you, and by association me, again."

"Jace either," said Jonathan, which sent Clary's eyebrows up. She looked at her brother.

"Oh really? What happened to-"

Jonathan stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Later."

Clary looked almost content after that, or more like smug.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do about Isabelle. There's a possibility she won't even ask about me again," Simon told the siblings. "You could pretend like I went back to being mundane."

Sapphire didn't care for the way Simon said _Isabelle_. It made her want to roll her eyes. Clary's face wore similar irritation.

"What happened to _I wanna be there for you Clary blah blah blah_ it was why you involved yourself in the first place, remember?," Clary paused to sigh. "Besides, even if I wish she would, Isabelle isn't just going to forget you exist."

Sapphire reached out, grabbed Simon's arm and yanked him away from Clary before she even realized what she had done. "Sorry. We gotta go," she told the demon siblings.

Clary's eyebrows shot straight up. "Oh? And who decided that."

Sapphire pushed down her discomfort. "The sun," she responded. The night was beginning to be less black and more a darkish blue. The sun would start rising soon.


	56. Chapter 56

Her brother was simply so eager to get out of the infirmary that Isabelle did not even bother trying to stop him. Once she had told him everything that had happened, his immediate concern was anything but his health.

"I've rested enough," he insisted, and left the room.

Isabelle was disoriented over Alec being conscious, so that she nearly forgot.

"Wait," she said, and went to find Clary. Nearly ten minutes later the two siblings had looked through the entire institute, and had come up with no red head.

"Her mother is missing and she's stayed here for weeks. She doesn't have anywhere else to go," Alec told Isabelle, as if she didn't know.

Isabelle didn't bother to defend the absent girl. There was no way to even know how long she'd been gone, and it was Izzy's fault.

And it was at that moment that the doors to the institute opened. It wasn't quite possible to do that silently, but somehow Clary managed only to stop in her tracks when she saw the two siblings in her path.

"Alec," said the redhead, after just slightly too long a pause.

Isabelle didn't bother with pretenses. "Care to tell us where you've been?"

The constant stream of curses going through Clary's mind was nearly clouding her thinking process. How reckless. If she had paused for one second, she would have heard the two siblings on the other side of the door. She had assumed Alec was still unconscious, but he was awake, standing right in front of her with his trademark suspicious gaze. It was made worse by his sister at his side, baring nearly the same expression. _Think_, Clary told herself. What reason would she have had to leave? Where would she have went?

"I stepped out. I couldn't think anymore and I just needed a minute." She tried to sound drained and desperate.

Alec didn't seem to buy it. Clary wished more than ever that he had died like he was supposed to.

"A little early in the morning to step out," said Isabelle.

"I was up all night. I barely sleep since Valentine took Jace. What is your guy's problem anyway?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "We don't have a problem, except that Jace is gone and our tutor abandoned us when we needed him most. I bet he never even told the Clave what was going on."

"I wasn't sure you cared. All you've done is sit in the infirmary and wait for him," Clary gestured to Alec, "to wake up. You wouldn't even talk to me about Jace. All I've been doing is sitting in your stupid library trying to think of ways to find him when you've done nothing."

Alec stepped in front of his sister. "There was nothing you and Isabelle could have done. You haven't even had any training."

"No," said Isabelle. "She's right. I was useless. I could have at least thought to contact the Clave before now."

Clary relaxed a little. They weren't focused on her anymore. "Maybe you shouldn't."

"What?" Alec asked.

"If you tell the Clave about Valentine and Jace, they'll never let us look for him, and you know they won't be able to find him."

"And we can?" Isabelle asked incredulously.

"Maybe," said Clary.

Clary's mind was racing. Alec being awake could be a good thing. He was Jace's parabatai. If the Lightwoods managed to find Jace and get him away from Valentine themselves, her father wouldn't have cause to blame her. She had to help them, but not in a way that would point directly to her.

The siblings seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so she obliged.

"Like I said: I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I realized something. It didn't really click until just now what to do about it though. But with Alec awake ..."

"Go on," the man in question huffed.

"Well. I was thinking about Valentine and whoever he's working with are getting around, and he struck me as the type to do things the easy way. So I figure: a portal."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "The only portal in New York is in this institute."

"How can you be so sure?" Clary asked. "You didn't know about Dorothea's portal either until a demon came out of it and attacked us. There has to be another one that you don't know about. And I would bet every dime I ever spent on coffee that Valentine's using it."

Alec and Isabelle seemed to think about this for a long moment. Finally, Alec spoke.

"Even if you're right, how would you find it? And why do you need me?"

"Magnus."

Alec promptly blushed. Isabelle's eyebrows went up and she seemed to smirk.

"W-what do you mean?" Alec sputtered.

"I mean I bet he would help us find it if you asked him too. He healed you didn't he? Without anyone even contacting him." Clary was patting herself on the back for her observance, and for having impressed Isabelle enough to wipe all remaining suspicion off the raven haired girl's face.

Finally Alec sigh in resignation. "Alright."

Simon Lewis had decided that the sun was a bitch.

As if able to hear his thoughts, the white haired man next to him said, _You were the one who_ _wanted this._ No. Jonathan couldn't read minds. He was just very observant. Must be the senses, Simon was finally beginning to understand that at least. Albeit, not as well.

Simon rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your sister or something? You couldn't have been getting any action recently," he quipped. It was half-hearted, barely teasing really. It was just entertaining to see Jonathan be flustered for a few seconds, since the man was always so confident and poised.

Sadly, flustered he was not. Instead Jonathan sent Simon a glare. "Like you can talk."

Ok, so that was fair, but no reason for him to know it.

"I'll have you know-" Simon began, only to be cut off.

"Boys," Sapphire interrupted from several feet away. "I can't do anything about being in a damn sewer, the least you both can do is spare me the details of your sex lives."

She was right of course, Simon knew. They were all three miserable enough, but only two of them had to be.

"Seriously," Simon turned to Jonathan again. "Why are you here?"

It wasn't that Simon didn't want him here. In fact, he appreciated having his friend around. It had been a while since they'd talked. But hanging out with your newbie vampire buddy in a sewer hiding from daylight couldn't be anyone's idea of a good time.

"You know that Clary wanted me to keep an eye on you. Can't have you disintegrating or murdering the whole town when the sun goes down," was the reply.

_Ouch_. So that was fair too. Simon expected for the familiar stabs of guilt to pierce him, and was more than relieved when it didn't. He imagined what his father would think of him now. He'd probably turned over in his grave when Simon had crawled out of his own.

There was a scoff. "I wouldn't let him murder the whole town," Sapphire said.

"Right. Because you did a great job of that last night. How many people did you kill?" Jonathan asked, sounding disinterested despite Simon knowing he expected a real answer.

Simon answered immediately, and shamelessly, but apparently hadn't spoken loud enough to satisfy.

"Say again?"

"Five," was the growled answer.

"And when the sun goes down, what then?" An innocent question.

"I'll be thirsty again, I'm thirsty now," Simon said simply. He knew what Jonathan was doing. Poking at him, trying to make him feel bad for what he did. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how one looked at it, that wasn't going to work.

Jonathan turned his attention to Sapphire. "And you're going to stop him how?"

She rolled her eyes. "Easy. I'm older, stronger, and faster."

It was Simon's turn to scoff, but he didn't make a retort.

"So what would you say about last night?"

"He was brand new, I let him have his fun."

"I can't trust you to do what you say. You're vampires. Blood wipes all reason," Jonathan said matter-of-factly. Neither vampire present denied the charge. Why bother? Simon knew it had no real use. This entire conversation was pointless. Jonathan, or Clary for that matter, didn't give two shits how many people Simon killed. They just didn't want him caught, or attracting attention. Simon supposed that was fine, since every vampire in New York probably hated Sapphire and himself. So Simon sat in silence, the sewer smell getting to his brain. He couldn't believe there was no where else to go when the sun started to go up. I mean, an abandoned house? Anything? But nothing was close enough, and so they'd ended up here. He didn't know how long it had been when he suddenly tilted his head upwards and shouted loudly, "The sun sucks!"

He imagined anyone walking by above ground would be very confused.

Jonathan smirked.

Jace wanted to know where exactly he was. He'd been in something like a hospital type bed for several days, and he was getting annoyed about it. His dead father had come in, dropped bombshells and then simply left. What was Jace supposed to be doing right now, and why was he here? He decided to get up and find out but was stopped when he discovered the door to his room was locked. He should have remembered that, the door always locked after he was brought food.

"Hey!" He shouted, wondering if anyone could hear him, or if his father was still around.

The answer came a moment later when the door cracked open. Jace's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Maryse?" He managed.

"Hello son. I really shouldn't be seeing you; your father isn't here right now."

"I don't understand."

"And I can explain. I can explain everything if you'll listen."

Which was how, ten minutes later, Jace ended up sitting on his hospital bed trying to take in a lot of new information. He was only pulled out of this by a particular sentence.

"What?" he asked.

"I said: your father believes that you can encourage your sister to help us," Maryse repeated.

"Sister?"

"Yes. I was sure you knew he had a daughter with that awful woman as well. Oh I'm -I'm sorry. You must have questions about ...Jocelyn."

Maryse knew she should not be here. Valentine had wanted her to stay away from Jace, but she had heard him shouting and simply announced her presence. The least she could do was protect Valentine's other children in the process. The lies tasted bitter on her tongue though. She told herself it would be worth it when Jace understood everything. So she told him the approved story and passed him off as Jonathan, just as Valentine had when he was younger. Part of her still resented that.

"Clary," said Jace, strained.

"Yes. What about your sister?" she asked, curious now.

"She's my sister..."

Jace could barely stand the confused look on Maryse's face. Clary was Jace's sister, what was the problem? He could not even begin to express the problem. For some reason, when his father had introduced himself to Jace as Valentine Morgenstern - that particular detail hadn't clicked. His subconscious must have rejected it. Now he'd just been told point blank that the girl he was falling for was his full-blooded sister. There was no running from it now. Some insane part of Jace wanted to snap and start laughing, but he controlled himself. He had to figure out how to get out of here. Because, oh, he wasn't staying. He just wasn't. Screw every shock induced thought that maybe things weren't as he'd been taught. He had figured out in the last few minutes with Maryse that his father had brought him here to turn him against the Clave. Unfortunately for Valentine, Jace had no intention of doing so. The eleven year old version of him would have done anything to gain his father's approval, but that man had been killed. At least, according to Jace he had. He wouldn't go back to being that little boy. Except now, it was worse. Maryse was here. The only woman who'd ever been a mother to him, was on the wrong side of things. She talked about Valentine Morgenstern as if she loved him. She referred to Jace's biological mother as if she hated her. Maryse wasn't who Jace had always thought she was. This was going to hurt Alec and Isabelle more than Hodge ever could. That is, if he ever managed to tell them.

"Where's uh ... Clary's mom right now?" He interrupted whatever Maryse was saying.

Her eyes flashed so quickly Jace almost missed it, but they softened. "She's ..."

"Is she dead?" Jace risked asking.

Maryse only stared at him for a moment. "I know it's hard to understand son but-"

"Valentine- my father killed her." It wasn't a question.

Maryse paled. "Please Jace, just let him explain it to you. I'm sure he will be back soon." She got up and fled the room before Jace knew what he should have said next.

Maryse knew she had just made a disaster of a mistake. She should not have went in that room. She should have listened to the man she loved and stayed away from Jace until he could be made to understand. But it had been days, and she'd made a mistake. She had to believe it was a mistake Valentine could fix.


	57. Chapter 57

Renwick's. It was the word Clary had been waiting to hear for the better part of the last hour. Magnus Bane had indeed come. He was completely wrapped around the Lightwood boy's finger, even if he might not yet be aware of it himself. And so they four had sat, discussing portals and the like for a painfully long time for something so simple. Finally - _finally _\- one of the other three had discovered some vital piece of information that Clary hadn't been paying attention to, and shortly after brought a phone book into the mix. "Somewhere that fits the bill," they said. And mercifully, after these long three hours, Isabelle had said the magic word.

"An asylum?" Clary asked, looking at the page.

"An abandoned asylum," was Magnus' answer.

It seemed to be all the confirmation both Lightwood siblings needed, as they didn't hesitate to cartoonishly spring out of their seats, weapons at the ready.

"Wait," Clary said. Couldn't have her scapegoats getting themselves stupidly killed. "Don't we need like ... help?"

"Help?" Alec asked, his eyes flickered to Magnus.

"You know like I'm sure Valentine isn't going to just leave his hideout totally unguarded and easy to get into." It was amazing how much you could rock someone with common sense.

"She's right," Isabelle said, sounding a little too surprised for Clary's liking. "He wouldn't be vulnerable. But we don't have an army. So we will just have to avoid being seen."

Clary promptly decided it would be a miracle if they managed to pull this off.

"Less is more when staying out of sight," Magnus pointed out. He seemed to Clary to be saying _don't bring me, _or perhaps that was just her dislike of him talking.

Alec was the one to reply. "Right. Me and Isabelle will go get Jace. Clary stay here. Magnus ... uh yeah anyways I'm sorry Clary but you staying here would make things easier for us."

Clary thought they must be kidding.

"You're forgetting Jace might not be the only one in there. I have to find my mom. I have to come."

Alec and Isabelle shared a long look. Isabelle came toward her with a stele. "You're right," she was saying. "So you'll need a soundless rune and a glamour."

Clary offered her arm, fully expecting to be double crossed. Really, if you're planning to betray someone - the very least you can do is not talk to them like a dying animal. Clary's suspicions were confirmed a moment later when she began to recognize the Sleep Now rune being traced on her arm. She poured all her powerful force of will into denying the rune, and felt smug when - a second later - Isabelle looked apologetic and Clary felt nothing. Normal shadowhunters could never do that, Jonathan had told her, but their - Clary's and Jonathan's - blood doesn't want the angel Marks in the first place. Now, she decided to humor the others and pretend it was working. She made her eyelids droop.

"I'm sorry Clary," Isabelle said.

Clary nearly smirked, but instead she simply dropped. Magnus was the one to catch her.

"Just lay her uh somewhere," that was Isabelle's voice. It sounded like the two siblings were leaving. The institute doors opened and closed.

"Go Alexander," said Magnus.

"Right. I just ... I never you know thanked you. For saving my life I mean."

"You can thank me another time. Now go."

Clary repressed the urge to groan at the double meaning. Finally Alec left.

"Good thing I remember where the infirmary is," Magnus said to himself. He began to gather Clary's body in his arms. She decided it would be a good time to bolt.

Clary's eyes snapped open and she twisted easily out of Magnus's arms. The warlock only gaped at her. He didn't seem to know what to say.

"Sorry, but I have to find my mom." It was, in a way, the truth. She did need to get to her mom: to make sure the woman was dead before she could be _rescued_. But mostly she needed to make sure Alec and Isabelle didn't screw up in getting Jace far away from her father.

Magnus's eyes narrowed. "No need to apologize, I'm only curious how you're awake."

Clary sigh. "I would stay and explain, but no time. Goodbye Magnus." And Clary was gone.

"Forsaken," Alec pointed out to his sister from behind a bush. Runes for invisibility wouldn't be very effective, but it wasn't like they were planning to rely on that. They would just have to manage to go unseen by sheer luck. Isabelle sigh inwardly. Neither her or her brother would be known for their planning. Thankfully, their sheer luck held. Or maybe it was just because Forsaken weren't the sharpest tools in the shed. Isabelle silently thanked The Angel as they finally got inside through a side door. It must have been for employees, back when the asylum was still operational. One soundless rune on said door and they were in. They didn't waste any time celebrating.

Isabelle didn't want to split up, but Alec clearly thought it was the best plan. After all they weren't here for a confrontation. They had planned to get in find Jace and get out before Valentine or anyone -or anything- that was working for him could be the wiser. So Isabelle did what was suggested and went left, while her brother took the right.

Imagine her surprise when, after a staircase or two, she rounded a corner and ran smack into none other than her mother.

Clary had no idea which route to Renwick's the Lightwoods had taken, but she took the one she knew. When she reached her destination, it was obvious the siblings were already inside. The Forsaken did not even seem to know anything was wrong. The Lightwoods were good, Clary would give them that. Thankfully, she didn't have to practice any sort of caution with them. These were her father's, they knew who she was. She passed them and walked right through the front door.

Her senses went on hyper alert, which for Clary was something quite extraordinary. There were five beating hearts in the building - not including herself. Every heart was human. And there was nothing without a heart that was breathing. Clary realized that must of been why the Lightwoods got in so easily. No demons. Daddy dearest wasn't home, perfect.

Alec wasn't sure how to look, so he looked into the small windows of every patient door he passed. Which was how, on the third floor, he looked in one and saw Jace. He was just ... sitting there, on the bed. He looked like he was trying to solve a complicated riddle in his head. Alec knocked on the small glass square, and that seemed to snap Jace out of it. He looked relieved to see Alec and mouthed that it was locked.

_Duh_, thought Alec. He traced an unlocking rune on the door and it opened.

"They took everything off me, including my stele. I've been in here for- how long has it been?"

"Over a week. Must be why you reek," Alec pointed out.

Jace let out a startled laugh. "Not my fault you guys took so long."

Alec punched Jace's shoulder. "Let's just find Isabelle and get you out of here."

"You guys shouldn't have split up," Jace told him.

"You shouldn't have gotten yourself kidnapped by a psychopath," Alec retorted.

"Yeah, because I was totally down with getting kidnapped by my psychopathic father."

Alec, who had been checking if the coast was still clear, froze. He turned back around to look at Jace. "What?"

"Oh I forgot to mention that did I? Yeah. Valentine's my father. I recognized him the second I woke up. Everything was a lie."

Alec knew by his face that he was telling the truth. "But ... that means that Clary is ..."

"My sister," Jace seemed to force out the words.

"By the Angel" Alec breathed, then he shook his head. "We will sort this out later. We've got to go."

"Alec, there's something else."

"Something that can't wait until we're out of here?" Alec asked incredulously.

"Maryse is here. And she's not a prisoner."

"Isabelle?" Maryse said at the same time Isabelle gasped, "Mom?!"

For a moment, the two woman just looked at each other. Her mother's eyes sparked, like something had just occurred to her.

"Alec," Maryse said. "Is Alec with you?" She was clearly hoping fervently that the answer would be no.

Isabelle had recovered enough from her shock to understand one basic thing: her mother should not be here.

"Depends," said the younger girl. "What are you doing here?"

"Depends?" Maryse demanded. "I am your mother and you will answer me. Is your brother here?"

Isabelle stared at her. "I asked you a question," she said at last. Mother or not, this wasn't making sense and Isabelle had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Maryse looked incredulous. She didn't speak for a long moment. "You need to leave Isabelle. If your brother is here, he needs to leave too. You can't have been here," she told her daughter.

"I'm not leaving without Jace."

Her mother looked pained. "Jace isn't going anywhere. Only you and Alec are."

"You knew Jace was here," Isabelle breathed. "And Clary's mom must be here ..."

Before her eyes, her mother's expression turned cold. Isabelle's heart sank, she took a step backward.

"Isabelle-"

"Don't. I'm not stupid. Dad told me once how you felt about ... him. Except Dad said you knew you'd been a fool. But that wasn't true was it? You never learned anything."

Isabelle's hold on her whip tightened. A part of her couldn't imagine actually using it on her mother. But Maryse Lightwood was a fighter, a brainwashed Maryse Lightwood might be capable of anything. She had been a Circle member after all.

"Your father was the fool Isabelle," Maryse said icily.

Several things clicked into place for Isabelle at that statement. She felt her own mouth pop open into a small _o_. Isabelle was not the crying type, but the truth was like a stab of pain in her chest. All she had to do was look at her mother's face to know she was right.

"Why?" she said, her voice small. She violently shoved back her tears.

Maryse didn't say anything. Part of Isabelle's control shattered, and she found herself slapping her mother hard across the face.

_Ouch_, Clary thought happily. _That didn't sound pleasant._

Isabelle had just done the one thing she had been wishing she could do since she met the awful woman. But it was even more satisfying, because her own daughter had done it.

She was glad she'd been listening. Isabelle and Maryse were only one floor above her, so it had been easy. But now she focused her attention back on to her own floor, and made her way to her own mother's room.

"Hello Jocelyn," she sang to the unconscious body, and shut the white door behind her.

"I'm sorry sir," the young warlock mumbled to Valentine Morgenstern. "I don't specialize in that sort of mind control."

"I might point out that I pay handsomely for a warlock's services, if he can help me," said the white haired man.

"I wish I could, but I just don't know how to do what you're asking. If you had something specific in mind, something you wanted the ... er, subject to believe, I might of been able to help you. Or if you just wanted your subject to agree with every word maybe. But you're asking for loyalty. Every single thought would have to be influenced in a specific way, but not entirely changed. It's not something I am capable of." He had been rambling, fearful of the growing irritation on the other man's face. The warlock had trailed off, and was silently reminding himself that the man could not hurt him.

At last Valentine spoke. "I see. That's unfortunate. It seems I will simply have to rely on myself."

The warlock did not take another breath until the white haired man and his three demons had left.

Jace heard the sound of a slap echo off the walls. In response, Alec stopped so suddenly that Jace ran into him which pushed his parabatai forward several more feet. The result was a glare.

"Well don't just shock still then," Jace told him in a whisper.

Alec held a finger to his lips. _Quiet_. Slowly, the dark haired boy rounded the corner they had come to. What he saw still surprised him, even though Jace had warned him in advance. His younger sister had her back to him, and beyond her stood their mother. Maryse was standing completely still, like a statue, one hand held to her red face.

_Isabelle slapped mom_, Alec thought in disbelief. But what happened next nearly dropped Alec's jaw. Maryse, in a blindingly quick movement, put the entire force of her other arm into a slap that struck Isabelle so forcefully her entire head went sideways. It wasn't until his sister spit, her saliva tinged with some red, that Alec snapped out of it.

"Hey what the hell?!" He demanded of his mother from his place at the opposite end of the hallway.

Both women jumped a bit at his voice, but then Isabelle relaxed. She still didn't face him. His mother, on the other hand, was now staring straight at him.

"Tell him mom," Isabelle said venomously. "Tell Alec about Dad."


	58. Chapter 58

Jocelyn Fairchild knew from Clary's tone that she was going to die, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. Her body went on sleeping, no matter what her mind had to say about it. She simply lay there, listening to her daughter.

Her monster of a daughter.

"Oh you're crying. You can hear me then, good," Clary said. "It would be disappointing if I was talking to nobody but myself. I don't have much time to be talking anyway. Obviously they can't know I was ever here."

Clary sigh. "It's a shame almost, that I'll never understand. You knew that I was no different from Jonathan- but you took me and left him behind."

Jocelyn could never say she regretted that. Not at all, because Clary had been different. Perhaps not as much as Jocelyn would have liked to believe, but she had been. And so she had given Clary a chance, she had tried to keep the darkness away. She had done everything she could have possibly done for her. She refused to blame herself for this.

"I could never describe to you what it's like. To know him, after a life without him. He is the only one who could ever understand."

There was a pause. Jocelyn wasn't sure how she knew, she simply did. She didn't need the confirmation that came a few seconds later. If she had been in control of herself, she might have emptied whatever remained in her stomach.

"I'm in love with him. I imagine that's your worst nightmare. I won't pretend that that isn't a plus for me. But that isn't why I love him, to displease you. No. I love him because we were meant for no one but each other, because his touch is all I could ever need. I fell in love with him before I even knew who he was. But you don't deserve to hear that, you don't deserve to hear about my ability to love anyone, Angel knows I never loved you. Hell I never even liked you. I remember wondering when I was young why that was. It distressed me that the only person I gave a damn about was Simon. Not my mother, Simon. And not in the way that I could of, you know, if I had been who you wanted me to be. No I cared about him like a brother. Ironic right?"

For a while it was silent. Every memory she ever had with Clary flickered through Jocelyn's mind like a slideshow. Clary being placed in her arms for the first time, looking up at Jocelyn with bright green jewels for eyes. Herself placing Clary delicately in Luke's arms. Clary with a faerie in her fist. The first time she'd ever noticed Clary's eyes had gotten darker. Clary staring too-intelligently at Tessa Gray, fascinated at Magnus Bane. The last time Clary had ever let Luke kiss her forehead. And the later years, when Clary ceased to look at Jocelyn with anything but contempt. Clary's sixteenth birthday when she had disappeared. The night she had come home, torn and crying and actually embracing Jocelyn. She had blocked everything out then, had deliberately ignored the details that did not make sense. She had refused to notice how Clary's eyes had been all but black when she had returned. She had simply chosen to overlook everything except for Clary's arms around her. This was the price, because that had been an act. It had all been an act. And now Clary was no longer attempting to mask her menace. For many years, Jocelyn had assumed Clary had not been trying to conceal her darkness much at all. Now she knew, in this moment, that that wasn't true. The hate Jocelyn had seen in Clary's darkening eyes, the malice she had heard in her voice as each day passed had not been unconcealed, it had been a fraction. The fraction Clary could not hide. She was silently grateful that at least she did not have to see her now.

And it had only been a moment, she had seen it all again. Every minute with Clary. She should regret it all, but she couldn't.

"There is no reason for you to continue to live. It makes little sense why you are not yet dead. We have what we needed from you. Perhaps you're lying here breathing for the sake of sentimentality. Or perhaps my father wanted you here to hang over Maryse's head, too keep her threatened and in line with the very fact that her replacement is in the building. Or maybe, since Valentine is of course a liar, he truly loved you once upon a time. Whatever the reason- it is no longer relevant. And I've said everything I needed to say."

A breath.

Jocelyn's heart was nothing but splinters in her chest.

When Clary spoke again, her voice was strongly soft. "Mom..."

Not Jocelyn. Not Jo. Not mother. Mom. Clary did not call her mom, unless there was a mock or some sarcasm in it. Unless there was a hint of cruelty. But the way she had said it, for once, had none of that.

"This is not just for me. It's for Jonathan as well. You made many mistakes, but separating us... that was a fatal one. It is what I always hated you for, even before I ever knew it."

Jocelyn's breath was cut off. A soft barrier against her mouth and nose was held between her and the oxygen. Her own daughter was suffocating her, and she felt no surprise. Jocelyn supposed that in the back of her mind, she had always known this might be a possible outcome.

And that was the last thing Jocelyn Fairchild had thought when the air in her lungs ran out.

Clary slipped out of the room silently, a weight off her chest. It had definitely gone gentler than she had thought herself capable of. She had even called Jocelyn mom. That was something she could barely explain to herself, even just after she'd said the word. It didn't matter, it was over. She slipped out of Renwick's easily without being seen by anyone or anything. There was only one problem on her mind: what was she going to say to Magnus Bane?

Maryse was staring at her daughter and son, unable to think of anything to say. _Lie_, she told herself, and she did just that. "Alexander, I have absolutely no idea what your sister is trying to insinuate or why," she told her son.

Alec and Jace stared at her from where they were standing, but the darker haired boy eventually moved from his place and made his way to stand by his sister. He seemed to take a breath. "I don't believe you," said her son.

"Izzy," began Jace who still hadn't moved. "Did she have him killed?"

Isabelle stared at Maryse when she answered. "I can see it in her eyes," she answered.

Alec closed his eyes for more than a few seconds, like he was trying to accept it. Maryse wanted to screech at the heavens. None of this was supposed to be happening, it was never supposed to happen this way. She had it planned. Valentine would take the control of the Nephilim first, and from there she would do whatever she could to bring her children to the winning side of things. Having Jace by her side already would have made that much easier. But clearly Jace was not planning on sticking around, and Alec and Isabelle were looking at her with such profound sadness and hate, she could not imagine the day they would listen to another word she ever spoke.

"Please," she found herself saying. "This is all more complicated than I can explain."

"We don't need you to explain anything," her daughter spit.

"She's right," Jace cut in. "In fact, we will have to be going now." He made his way over to Alec and grabbed his arm, to snap him back into action. Alec only swayed on his feet. Isabelle grabbed his other arm. She seemed to be trying very hard to ignore the glistening of her eyes.

"We should look for Jocelyn first. Clary would be devastated- but I wouldn't be surprised if she's dead too," Isabelle said to Jace and Alec.

"She's not dead," Maryse whispered.

"And we'll just take your word for that. Alec come on," said Isabelle.

Finally her son moved. The three of them left Maryse standing in the hall as they made their way through the near-empty asylum. She had no doubt they would find Jocelyn in a matter of minutes. How she could possibly ever explain what had happened to Valentine, she had no idea.

Isabelle refused to think about anything that was going on. Now was not the time to get caught up and break down. Alec had nearly become useless back there. She could not blame him for his reaction, but there was no need to add herself to that. So she kept control, she held back her emotions and focused on finding Clary's mother. When herself, Alec, and Jace finally did find the older woman though- she nearly wished that they hadn't. She certainly wished she could feel surprised, but she couldn't. Jocelyn was dead.

The three of them stared at the red haired woman for a few minutes. Alec was probably wondering how many murders their mother had involvement in, knowing this was probably included. Jace was likely trying to think of something to tell Clary, how to even say this. Isabelle herself just felt numb. She was the one who finally told the boys that they needed to leave. "No use bringing the body," she heard herself say. "We have to go now."

Jace had just barely nodded when they felt it. The demons that they had originally expected to be here had arrived. And judging by the look on Jace's face, Valentine Morgenstern had probably returned with them.

"What do we do?" Alec asked, finally snapping back into warrior mode.

Jace looked over at his parabatai. "Run."

When Valentine came through the mirror, the first thing he saw was Maryse running towards him. His lover was nearly incoherent, babbling about her children and Jace.

"Maryse," Valentine interrupted firmly. "An understandable explanation if you would."

"My children -Isabelle and Alec are here. They both saw me, I didn't know what to do. They had already found Jace at that point and Jace by the Angel Valentine I think I ruined everything." The woman was veering dangerously back into babbling territory, but Valentine had heard enough.

"Where are they now Maryse?" he demanded of her.

She flinched, clearly no longer accustomed to the hardness in his voice being directed toward her. "They said something about finding Jocelyn- for Seraphina."

He turned to his demon companions. "Do not let them leave."

"Valentine how can I fix this?" Maryse asked him.

He was too upset about his son to be kind to her, no matter how fragile she seemed at the moment. Valentine knew that more had been said between her and her children, but he didn't have the time or motivation to find out. "Enough has been done," he said, and followed his guard demons down the hall.

Isabelle, Alec, and Jace were all racing toward the door that had let the latter two in. And suddenly in there way stood a large moloch demon flanked by two drevak demons.

Immediately seraph blades were drawn and passed around. The three sized up their obstacles. There was always unspoken communication between them, they each knew without saying who was supposed to take out which. Looking at Jace, though, Isabelle felt her throat prickle with worry. He couldn't have been fed well here, and he didn't look up to his best fighting. It was Jace though, it had to be enough. She looked over at her brother, ready to make a request when the demons seemed to stand down. A moment later, the three understood why. Jace was the first to turn towards the older man - who was making his way calmly toward them, completely at ease.

"Son," said Valentine when he was close enough.

Isabelle was confused, until she looked at Jace's face. She felt a look of shock settle on her own. "What?" She asked anyway.

"Valentine is Jace's father," Alec told her in her ear. Jace nodded.

"Hope you don't mind," said the blonde. "But I was gonna take off now."

Valentine only looked at Jace, annoyance in his expression. "I do mind actually. I am going to have to insist that you stay, we need to discuss many things."

"Like hell," Isabelle found herself answering for him. That was the first time Valentine seemed to notice she and her brother were present too.

"I had not planned for either of you to be involved in this so soon, I only wanted my son."

"How unfortunate for you," Isabelle spit.

Valentine's jaw tightened, as if he was attempting to exercise patience. "I see you have your mother's fire."

"Do not compare me to that piece of filth."

"Isabelle," Alec said.

"Don't start being mama's boy on me Alec, there's no excuse for what she did."

Realization, and then disappointment appeared in the older man's gaze. "No loyalty. She is your mother."

"She's also the reason my father is dead, and Clary's mother for that matter. I won't make excuses for her just because she's my mom. And frankly, it's none of your damned business what I think of her," Isabelle informed him.

"Jocelyn is not dead," Valentine replied.

Isabelle faltered for a moment, Alec cut in. "We've been down there, seen her body. Might as well not bother with lies just for Jace's sake."

The white haired man did not respond to this. Isabelle did not know what to make of his silence. Was it possible he didn't know Jocelyn was dead? Had her mother- had Maryse killed the other woman herself? No. Isabelle couldn't afford to dwell on her mother committing murder right now. Not right now. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

"What did you expect to happen?" Jace asked Valentine suddenly. "A couple well placed words, a few lies, and I would just fall back in line like I was ten years old again? I'm not that kid."

"Of course not. You are a man now, but I am still your father. I have always done what was best for you, I trusted Starkweather and Maryse to take care of you. Your sister might have been with Jocelyn but she was always safe as well. Whatever you think of me, you must know that I have always protected my children. My goals are noble ones, and you both would be aiding a vital cause. Surely you can see sense."

Alec put his hand on Jace's shoulder, like he was trying to keep him grounded. There was no telling what the words of a parent, even a psychotic one, could do to their child. Isabelle supposed she and Alec now had first hand experience with that.

Without so much as taking a breath, Jace - all in one fluid motion - flung the seraph blade he was still holding onto behind him. It flew through the air and met its mark, one of the drevak disappearing completely. For possibly the longest single second of Isabelle's life, everything stood still.

Then the stillness broke.

It took all of a minute to dispatch the two remaining demons, but when the three of them looked back to where Valentine had been standing- the older man had disappeared. Jace didn't hesitate, he followed where his father must have fled. Isabelle and Alec raced on his heels.

One flight of stairs and a few turns later there were voices to the left. One clearly belonged to Valentine, the other to Isabelle's mother.

The three bursted into a room, it was slightly larger than the patient's rooms had been. There was no telling who dwelled here once upon a time. It didn't matter. All that mattered now was the portal, in the shape of a mirror, that Valentine had stepped halfway into. Maryse was waiting just behind him. Isabelle and Alec lunged forward at the exact same time, tackling there protesting mother to the ground before she could follow her psychopathic boyfriend. Jace, on the other hand, was just a bit too late. Valentine stared back at him from the other side of the portal. Jace knew where he was. Idris. He could see the place where Valentine had raised him in the background. He knew if he followed, Valentine would simply overpower him and hold him prisoner again. He had already almost listened to him the first time, before he got snapped out of it. It would be a lot harder for Alec and Isabelle to come rescue him in Idris, and he didn't trust himself to stay himself. Not yet.

"I believe we will meet again soon, son," Valentine told him. "Perhaps you, your sister and I can be a family when all is said and done." His father paused and then looked past Jace to where Maryse was held down on the floor. "I am sorry my love."

Maryse let out an agonized wail. What the man had been apologizing for was unknown to Isabelle. She imagined it was likely for leaving her mother to face the Clave, and justice, without him. Isabelle couldn't say she was entirety sure her mother would ever again see the light of day after a betrayal of this magnitude. She had gotten off easy once, the Clave wasn't likely to be lenient again. Not with her.

The portal connection closed. All that was left was a seemingly average mirror. Or there was, before Jace's fist promptly shattered it. Pieces of broken glass showered the floor. Isabelle thought it was fitting for a broken family.

Clary made it back to the institute less than ten minutes after she'd left Renwick's. She'd been gone for all of a half hour. They would think she'd never left, if it wasn't that Magnus had seen her make her -impossible- exit. She had been thinking of a lie to tell him all the way here, but lying to Magnus was trickier than lying to anyone else. As of now, he was the only unfriendly who knew about the blood in her veins. He might make a connection, and how would she explain a dead warlock, or even a missing one? It would only bring suspicion. She would never be able to get anything done if they were all suspicious of her. No, Magnus had to be alive. There was only one way to play this: avoid seeing him or explaining anything until she had established a timeline with the others.

That didn't go as planned.

When she got close to the institute, her senses came alive. Someone was still inside. Upon entering, she discovered Magnus had not left. She resisted the desire to bash in the walls. Why the fuck was he still here? Warlock's aren't supposed to be in shadowhunters business like this, they aren't supposed to care about shadowhunter business. They aren't supposed to be involved - Clary took a breath. Magnus was still here because he thought he'd sent his precious Alec to get nearly killed again. Better to be here in case he came back wounded. _Ugh_. It didn't even make sense why he already cared about the Lightwood so much anyway. He was just a shadowhunter boy, one with a whole mess of emotional problems Clary wouldn't touch with a ten foot poll. Before, at least, their connection had been a convenience. Now she regretted ever exploiting it. Clary made a mental note to no longer involve wild cards, right before she came up behind him and said a sheepish, "Hey."

Magnus turned around, trying to seem unsurprised. "Well that was quick. Where are the others?" _Where is Alec?_ was undoubtedly the real question. Clary wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn't. "I never caught up to them, I - I didn't even make it two blocks."

Magnus eyed her for a moment. "I thought you had to find your mom?" he questioned at her, using her own words.

"I wasn't thinking clearly. I don't know how to fight like any of them do. I'm - I'm just a mundane girl. Or I feel like one. I left and then I started thinking about the last time we'd all gone out and I didn't help anyone. I just hid behind Jace while Alec almost got killed." Clary felt like she was performing like she'd never had to before. She knew she was doing well when Magnus flinched slightly at the memory of Alec almost dead.

"I see. Except I'm sure Isabelle had already realized all of that when she attempted to put you to sleep. I'm very familiar with runes, I've always been ... closer to nephilim than most of my kind. So I know that what you did- denying a Mark like that- is certainly unheard of."

"Is that what I ... I don't know. I know next to nothing about runes. I haven't been a shadowhunter for very long. I don't know how I did that I just knew that I didn't want to pass out. And somehow I didn't. You really don't have any explanation?" Clary turned the tables. Pleading with him for information she knew he had but shouldn't, it was almost too easy to make him pull back. After all, how do you tell a teenager her blood was poisoned in the womb and her missing mother knew about it?

Clearly, Magnus didn't have the answer to that, because he took an almost involuntary step backwards. "None at all." he said after a moment.

_Oh Magnus_, she thought, _lies don't suit you._ Aloud,she said, "There has to be a reason I could do that."

"If there is, I don't know it."

Clary didn't allow herself to smirk, but she wanted to. "Fine," she huffed, forcing as much frustration as she could into her voice. "How long do you think before they come back?"

"I would not be overly confident that they will. I knew Valentine Morgenstern once, he is not a man to underestimate."

Well, Clary was sure now that Magnus was not a fool at least. She fell silent, letting Magnus' worry settle in the air for the both of them.

Nearly a half hour later, the institute doors opened. Four people stumbled inside.

"Magnus?" Alec asked, obviously surprised the warlock was still present. But Magnus didn't reply, eyes instead resting on the woman Alec had his arms around. Clary nearly stilled. Maryse. Shit.

Isabelle and Alec both had their arms around their mother, retraining her. Jace was with them, looking like shit.

Really, all of them did, especially Maryse. "Thank the Angel," she forced herself to breathe, eyes on Jace. The blonde haired boy tried to smile at her and failed.

"Since your still here," Isabelle told Magnus, "could you help us with holding her?"

There was a wave and some color and Maryse was standing off to the side, seemingly free. Only, when she stepped forward, she hit a solid barrier. She must have yelled something, but no one could hear her.

"Thanks," Alec said.

"What happened?" Clary interrupted. "Where's my mom?"

Amazing how quickly three teenagers could go completely silent. It was Jace who finally stepped forward. "Clary..." he started in an obviously over-gentle tone.

Clary dropped any expression she was wearing and stepped back. "Don't," she said, pain lacing the word.

"I'm so sorry."

Clary just stared at him for a long time. No one else in the room moved, not even Maryse in her cage. Finally, Clary turned and fled through the institute doors. She was grateful for the excuse to go check on her brother and Simon. Thankfully the sun had been up and she didn't need to worry if the latter had drained anyone else.

Jace felt awful. Clary had been gone for almost five minutes and no one had hardly moved. He had wanted to go after her, but Isabelle had grabbed his arm. "No," she had said. He knew she was right. Clary's mother was dead, she would obviously need some time. Everything she'd done with them up until now had been for the sake of someone who was now gone. He wasn't sure what that meant for her from here. Leaving her be for a while was the best thing that could be done, but he hated feeling so useless. He wanted to hold her in his arms, tell her everything was going to be alright and - no. He stopped himself right there. That was the extent of how far his thoughts were now allowed to go. Brothers comfort sisters, they don't do anything else with them. Angel. He hadn't even told her that. She didn't even know. Maybe for now that was best, but it didn't make the truth go away. Whether she knew it or not - he was her brother. His feelings for her were every form of wrong, and it was time to start letting them go. He prayed silently that he could actually do that.


	59. Chapter 59

Clary had been gone for about two hours, and Isabelle could see the worry lines on Jace's face. Personally, Isabelle did not expect Clary to come back for a much longer time - given that her mother was dead. Isabelle could relate, at least, since her mother was dead to her as well. But it was different, obviously.

Magnus had gone _home to his cat_ shortly after Clary had left, claiming to be uninterested in being interrogated by the Clave. Isabelle sent word to the higher ups about the events of the past months a while ago, but there was still no word back.

Since then, they all simply stood around, waiting for someone to cart their mother - or in Jace's case, mother figure - off to wherever they take traitors. And, of course, for those more trained, to go after Valentine, who according to Jace was in Idris.

Alec had not moved from in front of Maryse's invisible cage since Magnus left. He was just staring at her, and she back at him, but no silent conversation seemed to be happening at all. It seemed as though, if someone were to flick them, they may just shatter into pieces of glass. The energy in the room was similar.

That is, until Clary slammed open the institute doors. She had been crying - which surprised no one, Isabelle was sure - but she also looked panicked.

"I can't find Simon," she blurted before anyone could ask her anything.

Isabelle cursed the way her body immediately seized up at Simon's name.

"What do you mean?" Alec asked, turning away from their mother at last.

"I mean that I needed to find Simon to- to tell him ... I- I just needed him so I went to his house and his mother started screaming at me about I don't even know saying that I- the point is he isn't there and he's not answering his phone and I-"

Jace was suddenly in front of Clary, both his hands on the sides of her face and telling her to calm down. Isabelle thought that if someone had just met them, they may buy the concerned brother excuse. Up until, of course, Clary leaned her entire body weight into him and began to cry in earnest, holding herself to him.

_Right_, Isabelle realized. _He hasn't told her yet._

As if driven by her thoughts, Jace carefully untangled himself from Clary's grasp and placed his arms on the sides of her shoulders. Hers went to hug around her body, seemingly bewildered at the subtle rejection.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Isabelle decided to ask, she told herself the only reason was that no one else had yet.

Clary looked over at her. "I ... it was before ... I can't remember. Oh God."

Now Isabelle was starting to get a little annoyed. The boy has been her best friend since they were toddlers and she can't remember the last time she saw him? She pushed her annoyance down forcefully and promised Clary that they would find him.

"We will?" said Alec, "but ..." He looked at Maryse in her cage.

Isabelle set the full effects of her glare on her brother. "Magnus said that the cage would hold. She's not going anywhere Alec, and we're all standing around here like five year olds waiting for the adults to come and tell us what to do anyways. Clary says Simon is missing, and you do what you want but I'm gonna go find him."

Isabelle caught Clary's grateful look out of the corner of her eye. Jace chimed in that he was coming, and Alec nodded.

"Not so fast," Jace said and Isabelle quickly realized what was happening. "You shouldn't come Clary. We can find him, just trust us."

"But Simon's my-" the red head began.

"We know Clary," Isabelle found herself interrupting, "but we need someone here in case Nephilim show up. Plus you're kind of ... emotional right now. We understand it it's just, you want us to find him as quickly as possible don't you?"

"I'm not a broken doll. You don't have to talk to me like I'm some lost toddler," Clary cut back, "but yes. Please just ... just go. Find him please."

The trio nodded and left, leaving Clary behind with the prisoner.

Simon had been pretending to sleep for nearly the entire day, but in reality he couldn't. The reason was no longer that he could not think of anything to tell the Nephilim. Clary and Jonathan had said to figure it out, and he had. But he didn't like it. The old Simon would have been ashamed, beyond ashamed for even considering what he knew he had to do. The Simon that he now was was not happy about it, but also resigned. It was Isabelle or Sapphire, and he had only known the latter for less than forty eight hours.

She had helped him, she'd sired him when he had doubted he'd ever have the opportunity to be turned again. She had abandoned the Hotel, even her own sire whom she claimed to hero worship, and she did it for him. Someone who was going to betray her not even a complete two days later.

But it was her or Isabelle, and despite everything his ex girlfriend had put him through, despite all the changes he'd been through, despite the less-than-caring person he was now, somehow he still loved her. Besides, it was more important that she and her fellow Nephilim believe Simon's story than it was for Sapphire to live. It was horrible and selfish, but it was the only plan Simon had. So he went on pretending to sleep, preparing to do perhaps the worst thing he'd ever do.

When he heard Jonathan's phone vibrate, he opened his eyes. He realized quickly, and thankfully, that Sapphire was actually asleep, unlike himself. She was likely a lot more used to sewers. He looked at Jonathan who held up his phone and mouthed _hope you got it figured out vampire boy._

Simon rolled his eyes, gestured towards Sapphire, and put his finger to his lips. A second later, Jonathan's eyes widened in understanding. He even smirked, nodding once. Simon hoped, given a little more time, he'd be able to smirk about at this sort of thing too.

Jonathan moved like a shadow, not even making noise when he climbed up to the grate and exited the sewer- only taking about seven or so seconds to do so.

Simon sigh silently and went to work. He removed his shirt and tossed it into the slush several feet away. Then came the next thing- but it was more risky. He used his own fangs to bite into both his wrists. He thought for sure Sapphire would smell the dead blood and wake up, but she went on sleeping. He bit into his own flesh several more times, then he made a criss cross across his back and raked every nail into the skin of his back. He did so several more times, so the skin wouldn't look brand new for a few hours at least. Then, bleeding but trying not to drip, he made his way over to where the vampire girl was lying and made himself the little spoon. He could feel himself getting thirstier the more blood left through his self made wounds. He figured by the time Isabelle and the others got here he would be starving and looking bruised around the eyes. As long as Sapphire went on sleeping, and reacted exactly how he hoped she would when it came time, this would work. The still human part of him felt upset at the thought, he forced the emotion away.

Alec thought Isabelle seemed a little shaken by the mundane boy being missing. In fact, whenever anything was about Simon, Isabelle acted weird. Almost as if she cared about him for her own reasons, and not just as Clary's new friend. He shrugged it off, clearly he was missing details. But just because she was his sister didn't make everything she did his business. He hadn't even told her upfront that she was right to assume things about him and Magnus. He scolded himself for getting sidetracked with thoughts of the warlock. Tracking Simon was the task at hand right now. Alec was just glad Clary had had something to use for tracking him, and that it seemed to be working. If only tracking criminals like Valentine was that easy, or even possible. Alec never understood how they managed to elude that sort of magic, but it didn't matter at the moment. Alec hoped Simon was alright, oddly for Isabelle's sake.

Clary took a moment to wipe the fake tears off of her face and send a text to her brother. Couldn't have him there when the lightwoods came knocking.

C: Lightwoods + J on the way get out of there

Then she focused her attention on the caged older woman. She was somewhat annoyed that talking to her was going to be harder, what with the silence part of the cage.

She went over to the discarded phonebook from earlier in the day and ripped out an add page. Finding a pen proved easy enough, Hodge had at least been helpful once. If only microscopically.

_If you talk you have my deepest promise that I will kill your kids. You don't have a prayer of anyone stopping me. Got it?_

She held up what she had written to Maryse's cage and watched as the older woman's jaw tightened, only slightly. But she nodded. Before Clary could turn away, she made a gesture with her arms. It only took a moment to figure out.

Sword.

Clary scowled. Right, the Mortal Instrument that could ruin everything. She had figured that it had been a part of Valentine's plan since the beginning to retrieve it at some point. But once he'd gotten the Cup, he had made no move toward the ancient weapon. It seemed that was to change. Clary brought the pen to paper once again.

_Your concern is touching, no need. We'll get it._

Maryse scowled when she saw the note again, but she made no other gesture. Clary didn't like the woman, and she didn't trust her. But she was sure that for whatever reason, Maryse wanted her kids to live. Parental sentiment Clary knew well. She turned from the older woman and took out her phone again.

C: Come to the institute. Gotta talk

The response came only a moment later.

J: On my way

"I'm pretty sure he's down there, at least according to this." Simon heard Jace's voice from above.

Then there was the banging sound of a grate being yanked off, to which Sapphire finally woke up. She whipped her head around in surprise and was on two feet almost immediately. Simon quickly followed suit. Then he surprised her even more, raking his nails painfully down her arm.

Two things happened at once.

Isabelle's boots dropped to the ground, and Sapphire reacted to Simon's action with one of her own. She slapped him hard across his face, her nails returning the favor onto his cheek.

Simon took the opportunity to drop to the ground and cower in the corner, as if it had caused him great fear and pain. He probably looked weak, which losing the blood doubtless helped with, but more importantly scared. Of Sapphire. It was ludicrous, but it worked.

Isabelle's voice rang out through the sewer in response. "What the hell?"

Sapphire turned toward the sound of the voice, and upon taking in the sight of Isabelle she said, "I don't suppose you're part of Team Demon?"

Simon, of course, knew that she was referring to Clary and Jonathan. Isabelle, however, did not know that. And it was all the confirmation the latter girl needed that this vampire was not a law-abiding one.

"Actually I'm a shadowhunter. Some respect might help you right now."

That kind of thing wasn't going to sit with Sapphire, and Simon knew it. "Oh so you're part of Team Self-righteous-Nephilim-bitches. Got it," she said, her lips curling into a distasteful snarl. Isabelle pounced, and for just a second, Sapphire seemed to think she would come out of this. It wasn't until she caught sight of Alec and Jace dropping into the sewer with Isabelle that she seemed to realize this wasn't going to end well. And from that point it only took about three or four seconds. Simon watched as his sire and in-another-life-would-be-friend fell, and was then snuffed out. He even felt it, as if he was the one being snuffed out, somewhere deep in his chest. He thought it must have been a sire thing. He wanted to say that he was sorry, even though he couldn't and a large part of him wasn't. He wanted to say something, but she was gone, and he didn't let any emotion onto his features. He only sat and waited for the light to be shined on his face, because it was finally nightfall.

"Simon?" Isabelle's voice was careful and small.

Still, he was silent. Then there was light, shining right into his enhanced eyes. He didn't look at it, or at her, but somewhere to the left. Unfocused. He heard her coming closer to him, but then Alec's voice said, "Isabelle don't."

Silence.

"Why? That's Simon. He could be hurt Alec."

"He is Izzy," said Jace. "Look at him, really look."

Isabelle took a few cautious steps forward. Simon was planning to stay completely still, was planning to let her discover his _wounds _and put her own story together. But that was before he smelled her blood.

In the one second that he managed rational thought, he realized that he'd miscalculated. He'd allowed too much blood to escape his new body, his new system that he didn't understand yet, and he needed to replace it. He realized that this was gonna be bad if no one stopped him, and then the rational thinking cut off and he lost control of himself. He went for her neck.

He didn't get there. Two sets of arms grabbed him, his teeth biting down into nothing. He snapped them together a few times, before he realized that the arms holding him away from her had blood in them too. And then he twisted in their grasp just enough to allow him access to one of them instead. This time teeth made contact with skin and what ran beneath it.

"Shit," someone said. Or he thought someone said it, he was too focused on blood. Blood blood and more blood. He didn't get very much of it before whoever the arm belonged to manage to wrench it away, and then somebody knocked him out.

He knew that he had only been out for half a minute at the longest, since the smell of sewer and blood was still fresh in the air. The only difference was that he was in control of himself again.

"He's a vampire now Isabelle, and he just took a bite out of Jace for the Angel's sake. You can't seriously be thinking this is gonna be fine."

Simon wasn't surprised at Alec's take on things.

"We have to at least know what happened. That vampire we took out has probably had him down here since he went missing, and we didn't even bother to think of him."

"That's not our responsibility, it was Clary's," Alec pointed out.

"Oh right. Please. Her mom was missing. And she had us to deal with, plus Valentine and all the Cup shit that we just dragged her into. So she let talking to her friends slide a little," Jace said.

"A little? She didn't even know how long he's been gone," Isabelle scoffed.

"Okay. That still goes to what I'm saying. Simon biting me probably isn't even his fault, I doubt he even knew what he was doing. I mean just look at his back. He looks like he's been dragged through hell. How are we supposed to know the vampire explained anything to him. Probably just dug him up and dragged him along with her or something. We can't go making rash decisions," Jace told the siblings.

"Plus it would crush Clary," Isabelle replied.

"Yeah. Just Clary," Alec said. Simon thought- hoped- the sarcasm meant what it seemed like.

Simon thought that was a good time to become conscious again, and let out a little moan of pain.

"Simon." Isabelle bent down next to him, and helped into a sitting position.

"Isabelle?" He asked, trying to sound vacant.

"Yeah, it's me Simon. What happened to you?" She asked.

"Sapphires," Simon replied.

"Sapphires?" Alec repeated.

"Let's get him out of here at least," Jace suggested.

Minutes later, Simon thanked whatever Angels existed for the fresh air. He vowed to let himself burn up rather than ever enter a sewer again. They sat him down onto the cement sidewalk.

"Now Simon, you have to tell us what happened to you. What do you mean about Sapphires?"

"Her eyes. She said her name... was based on her eyes," he told them.

"Her? The girl down there?"

"Not a girl. She was a ... she was a monster. Vampires exist right? Like you guys take them out and stuff? I think... that's what she told me."

Simon watched as the group of three exchanged meaningful looks. Isabelle's eyes filled with tears, and that was probably the worst part of this. He was lying to her, making her think he was hurt and had his life taken. But it was how things had to be, it was why he let Sapphire die. For this.

"Simon ... do you know what's happened?"

"I ... Yeah. I mean. I don't think you're supposed to crawl out of your grave after you're dead. Doesn't seem normal," he admitted.

Isabelle threw herself at him then and cried. "I'm so sorry," she said. Vulnerability had never been Isabelle's thing. It only made things, impossibly, harder.

"Isabelle," Simon breathed. "Please. You have to ... your blood.."

She promptly pulled away from him. It seemed to hurt her to do so.

"I don't know how to help you," she admitted through tears.

Alec was looking at his sister like she had two heads. He could see the question of _why are you actually crying over this guy, you don't cry_ written all over his face. It made Simon's heart bitter, as if he should mean nothing to Isabelle. He had to remind himself that as far as Alec must know, that was true. Suddenly his guilt towards Isabelle wasn't special, and was starting to fade like the rest of his guilt now could. Guilt belonged to the old Simon anyway, the human one.

"Jace, I -" Simon began.

Jace put his palms up, a _don't mention it, really don't_ gesture. He shut his mouth, then reopened it. "She was feeding me. Then she would take it back if... never mind. Point is I need blood. But she's ... I don't know where to get any," he lied. All of it, lies. But lying, just like feeding, was better when the guilt was gone.

They all just looked at him. Obviously having no idea what to do for a solution. Neither boy looked even the slightest bit willing to sacrifice a few drops. Isabelle, on the other hand, seemed to be debating it. Finally she took a step forward. "Here just -"

"Oh hell no," Alec said, stepping in front of her.

"He's right," Simon told her, even though he didn't want to. It was clearly was Alec wanted to hear. "Animals have blood too right? Know where I could find one of those?"

Jace scrunched up his nose but nodded. Then he and Isabelle supported him up by the arms and carted him off into the night, Alec only steps behind.

Jonathan showed up to the institute only minutes after he got the text. Clary went out onto the steps and then led him behind the large building. It was safer, since Clave representatives could show up for Maryse at any second.

"Simon okay? He have a plan?" She asked her brother first.

"Yeah. We won't have the Sapphire girl as a factor anymore. It's smart if you ask me."

Clary nodded. "Two birds one stone. Anyway, Daddy dearest contact you yet?"

"Not yet. I figure he will when he wants to let us in on the next move. He wasn't planning on leaving Renwick's so soon. Probably has to regroup on his own."

Clary rolled her eyes at that. "Right. At least we don't have to worry about Maryse anymore, or Jocelyn."

"Took her out?"

"Yeah. I admit I talked her ear off first. I don't know, I had some shit to say. Doesn't matter. Here's what does: Maryse is gonna be interrogated," Clary told him.

"She wouldn't talk, she knows us," Jonathan insisted, missing the point.

_Well_, Clary thought, _he spent the day in the sewers. Gotta cut him some slack_.

"No Jonathan, she's gonna be _interrogated_. With the Sword."

His eyes flashed. "Oh. Right. Well we were gonna get it at some point anyway I'm pretty sure. It'll just have to be a little sooner."

"Sooner as in as soon as possible. Isabelle called the Clave. If they were on top of things they'd already be here, I don't know how long we have as of right now," she pointed out.

"Once they get the story they're gonna take her to Idris and put her on trial. She's a Lightwood so it'll be public, and that could buy us some time. If it was anyone but a former Circle member, it would be a quiet thing at the Bone City and then it would be over. But the Lightwoods got off. Hodge too. People are gonna hear about this. We have a little bit of time, not much, but still. I can't do it alone though. The Silent Brothers will be in the way, and I can't take all of them out without you," said Jonathan.

Clary smiled. "I have a few ideas about that, but I know. We'll figure it out. You should probably get out of here though, we're tempting fate like this."

Jonathan leaned down and captured her lips in his for a few seconds. Clary made it last for several more after that.

"It's been too long without you," Jonathan whispered in her ear.

Clary smirked. "I miss you too," she told him. "It'll be worth it in the end. Now go take a shower, a long one."

"I'll think of you while I do," he replied with a smile, and then he was gone.

Not five minutes after Clary had gone back inside, the Clave finally decided to show up.

Ten minutes after that, the Lightwoods, Jace, and Simon did too. She wanted to smile at Simon, congratulate him on his getting himself out of a mess and selling his story. But instead she did what she had to, and acted horrified. Cried, yelled insults at Jace and Isabelle, before finally calming down and listening to the rushed story that Simon had sold them. After that, the Clave had a lot of Valentine-and-the-Circle questions for the teens, and in the midst of all that the adults - stellar as they were - ignored the downworlder teen. Which, for all involved, was fine. The night ended with one of them mumbling the incantation Magnus had given them and releasing Maryse from her cage, only to have her taken away in the shadowhunter equivalent of handcuffs, right in front of her stone faced children.

Before leaving, one adult Nephilim explained to the kids that Maryse was being taken to Idris for trial, and that if they heard anything more about Hodge they were to contact the Clave immediately.

"Right," Isabelle told the man, "because you guys are known for quick responses."

Clary surprised herself by smiling, because it was genuine.

The man only gave the five of them an annoyed look before he went off with his companions, and then it was very quiet again.

Clary turned directly to Simon and hugged him. "I want to know everything," she demanded, forcing her voice to tremble, "but I'm so glad you're ... um ... okay."

"I don't know if okay is what I am. But yeah, me too Clary," he told her.

She smiled small. "Good. I can't lose you too."

Jace suddenly cleared his throat. "It's been a long day, I know that, and I know the timing is more than awful but Clary we uh ... need to talk."

"Okay," Clary told him.

Isabelle's heart could not take much more of this day. She usually had such a strong heart. But this day had taken a huge toll. First her mother, Jace and his father, Clary's mom had died, the boy Isabelle- Simon had been ... he was a vampire now. And now she had to watch as yet another piece of Clary's world crumbled. What would she say if the boy she wanted- she tried not to glance at Simon at that thought- told her they were siblings. Probably exactly what she saw Clary do. The redhead only turned slowly, and walked away. She walked into the institute, the large doors slamming shut behind her.

The remaining four of them only stood in the night air after that. No one said anything for a long time.


	60. Chapter 60

"I need to..." Simon tried to speak, but the blood loss was really and truly getting to him. Isabelle looked over at him quizzically before a lightbulb seemed to go on over her head.

"He needs that blood," she told Alec, just as Simon's ability to walk seemed to momentarily fail.

"Right yeah, I'll find a meat place. They should have animal blood," Jace said.

"Guys," Simon tried to say, but it was too close to a whisper.

"I'm sure they can," Isabelle told both him and herself, "he has to."

"Okay I'll go too," Alec told his parabatai.

Jace stared at him. "But Clar-"

"Guys!" Simon managed to shout, finally earning Isabelle's refreshed attention. "Sun."

Isabelle looked up at the coming dawn in horror. "By the Angel, he's a vampire! He can't go in the institute. Where are we supposed to..."

Simon didn't catch the rest of what she was saying, as his body had unfortunately had enough. The last thing he managed to think was that he really regretted the extra slash on his back.

_At least I'm not dead_, Simon thought to himself when he finally came to and found that he was still lying on the pavement, albeit several yards away from where he passed out. Isabelle was staring down at him, wonder on her features. Jace and Alec were there, but Alec was holding something he hadn't been. A nearly empty bag of blood that smelled, to Simon, vaguely like cat piss and mud. He thought he could imagine exactly what it tasted like, before he quickly realized that he actually could taste it.

"Did you guys ... give me that?" He jerked his still slightly foggy head toward the smelly bag in Alec's hand.

"That's not really important," Isabelle told him, something in her voice that gave him pause.

"What is important then?" he asked cautiously in response.

"Simon," she said. "The sun is up, and you're outside. And you're a vampire."

"Yeah our guess is that isn't supposed to happen," Jace threw in.

Simon's eyes had flown wide, he was looking at the breaking sunlight in complete awe. He promptly sat up and began examining his arms, which were miraculously intact.

"I don't ... I don't understand" he told them, and it was the first real statement that wasn't a half-truth or a lie since they'd found him in the sewer.

And then Isabelle threw herself at him, Simon could tell she was trying not to cry. "Angel Simon. We tried to - to drag you to somewhere but there was nowhere and then the sun was hitting your face and I thought you were just going to disintegrate right in front of me after we just found you again and I - they went and got the blood after we were sure you weren't gonna die but for a second I really thought-"

Simon cut off her choked ramblings. "Hey, it's okay. See? Totally okay. Thank you for getting the b-blood," he hated having to pretend to struggle on the word. It had been nice being honest for a few minutes.

"No problem," Alec said, he was looking at his sister strangely again. But this time Simon didn't feel so upset about it, because what Isabelle had said just now told him something important. Regardless of her lies, Isabelle still loved him. And now, because of Clary and her plan, he was in her life. He had a chance, and if he played it right he knew he might just be able to keep her this time. Beyond that, Simon could no longer be upset with Isabelle about her lies regarding their relationship. After all, Simon had been telling and would tell enough lies of his own.

"I'm so sorry for everything Simon. We'll figure all this out." He knew that the other men present were assuming she meant his vampirism and what he'd supposedly been through lately, but Simon could see the true apology and the meaning in her eyes. He smiled, but stopped when her smile fell.

_Right_, he remembered. _Fangs_. He forced them to retract.

"Well now that crisis is averted, I need to talk to Clary," said Jace.

Isabelle was standing up and whirling to face her sort-of-brother in less than two seconds. "Jace," she said. "That's not a good idea."

The blonde boy only looked at her and crossed his arms. "Well what do you suggest we do?"

"Someone has to talk to her," Isabelle agreed. "But it shouldn't be you, and it shouldn't be you either Simon. Clary is obviously dealing with enough and I don't think she's really ready."

"Who then?" asked Jace.

Simon did not want to talk to Clary. It wasn't necessary, for one thing. And for another, he didn't want a lecture about Isabelle or questions about Sapphire's death.

"Me," Isabelle told her companions.

"You?" Alec asked, confused.

"Yes me," Isabelle snapped. "I'm a girl. I'll be able to ... help. It's better than any of you, and Jace is right, someone has to."

As Simon watched Isabelle make her way over to the institute and disappear inside after his best friend, he found himself wishing for the first time in a long time that Clary was a slightly more normal girl than she was. But the wistful feeling only lasted a second.

"Here." Alec tossed him the bag of smelly animal blood, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm gonna go get something to eat."

He looked over at Jace. "I doubt I can go in there," he told him. "So where am I supposed to go?"

Jace shrugged. "Don't know. Your moms house? Clary said she was mad. Whatever you do, try not to get taken again." Then the blonde seemed to reconsider what he had said. "I'm sorry," he tacked on, "for what happened to you." Then he disappeared after his parabatai.

_Thanks_, thought Simon. _Now I can go get someone real to drink._ He dumped the bag of horrible animal blood about a mile away in a garbage can, and found the blood he was looking for in the same alley. The person was so high that he decided he didn't actually have to kill him. He just cut a little gash in the guy's neck, with his own pocket knife, where his fangs had went in. He thought Clary and Jon would be proud.

Clary noticed that Isabelle was being overly cautious. The raven haired girl had found her in the infirmary, staring at the wall from the edge of the same bed she'd originally woken up in quite a while ago. Clary thought it had been a nice touch.

"Hey..." Isabelle said carefully.

"Hey." Clary made her voice sound almost lifeless, the boredom she felt helped.

"I know you probably don't want to talk, but I just wanted you to know that... well I mean I'm here. If you like need to," the other girl told her.

In honesty, Clary was getting tired of acting. And lately, she was failing to see the point. There were certain things she needed to keep up pretending, of course, but other things were seeming less and less important. After all, she had infiltrated the Nephilim teens because she was told they might be able to help her, that their trust would end up aiding her somehow. But so far, Clary had gotten everything done herself, while dogging them at the same time. It was all feeling useless, and she was beginning to grow impatient with the game. Letting some things slip to ease the emotional boredom seemed tempting, too tempting.

"Look," she began. "There's something I think I should say."

"Anything," said Isabelle, eyes wide.

"You don't have to treat me like I'm ... heartbroken. I mean, my mom died. And it ... it hurts yeah. But you have to understand that I'm angry."

"Of course-" began the dark haired girl.

"No. You don't understand. I'm angry at my mom."

Isabelle paused, clearly not having expected that at all. "What do you mean?"

"She lied. She lied my whole life. And I would have been able to forgive that, over time after we ... if we had gotten her back. But we didn't, and it's more than that. She kept me from my-my brother ... If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have gotten myself into a situation like this. This is ... more than you can understand, and it's her fault. That's even besides the fact that she married an obvious psychopath. What am I supposed to do with that? The guy who killed my mom also loved her, and she was once in love with him. Plus she stole from all of you, the entire Nephilim community, and she kept that Cup for years and years. She could have gotten help, could have done everything differently. I'm just- I'm so angry. And now she's gone, and I'm left with no way to get over it. So how am I even supposed to ... grieve properly? How do I tell myself that I didn't hate her if this feeling is all I can remember?" Clary was nearly surprised at how much of that had been honesty. She hadn't intended to say everything she had.

Isabelle was staring at her with disks for eyes, but what was in them surprised her. She wasn't appalled at Clary's claim to hate, only sympathy shone there. And behind that, understanding. For some reason she found herself thinking that maybe Simon had a chance at what he wanted after all. "I ... believe it or not I understand. My mom's not dead but... but I know how you feel besides that. Being angry, like you didn't even know her. She's not even gone in the same way but I don't know how to forgive her. I don't think I ever will. I'm sorry that you're going through all this. I just- I have to ask you something. It's awful and I shouldn't ask but just the way you said-"

"Ask," Clary interrupted, trying not to get impatient. She didn't want to.

"Are you in love with Jace? I'm so sorry I just ... if you are ..."

"I'm not. It sucks that I kissed him and stuff because yeah maybe I could have ended up falling for him ... which ew. I just felt really bad because he was obviously hurting out there, and I ran off because I didn't want him to think that my hurt was because of him. You know?" Clary was beginning to think she deserved a medal in creative truth telling.

Isabelle seemed relieved, she even let out a breathy giggle before she sobered up. "Thank the Angel. Just yeah maybe leave that whole situation alone for a while. And if you need to vent about your mom I'm totally here. I'm here for everything actually, just come to me girl."

"If we're clearing the air," Clary began. "We should probably talk about Simon, because I'm still kinda pissed at you for that. Especially after he was leaning on you for dear life outside."

Isabelle blinked, then bit her lip and started looking sheepish. "Yeah. I know. Look, I was wrong. Totally wrong when I treated him how I did. I was just scared about everything you know. He was a mundane and my family just ... but that was before. It's not just that my parents are gone, that's part of it, but not all. I've known the whole time that I still loved him, I just told myself that I needed to push him away but I just ... I regret hurting him so much. And I know he's probably never going to let me back in, but I'm still gonna go for it."

Clary was astounded. She had her problems with Isabelle, with all Nephilim, especially Alec. But maybe, if this new outlook held up, Simon could be happy. And after everything he's done for her he deserved it. So Clary pushed her animosity aside and said the next words. "Maybe start with telling Alec and Jace that you two used to date. He'd really like that. And look at you, of course he'd want you back."

"I'm gonna do that anyway," Isabelle admitted. "But I don't know about Simon. I mean ... he's a vampire now. I don't even know what to do with that."

"Does it change the way you feel about him?" Clary asked, eyes narrowed.

"No! But I just think that now that he's gonna be around forever, he's gonna want someone who he can be with forever. And I just ..."

"You don't know if you can be that girl," Clary finished. Isabelle nodded. "Well look. Forever's a long time off. If you give it another shot and it doesn't work, Simon is still going to have that forever."

"And what am I gonna do if it does work out? I'm a shadowhunter Clary," she told her.

"And so am I. But wouldn't you like to think that if you found a love that worked you'd do anything for it? I'm just saying. Plus Magnus has forever too, and you can't tell me you don't notice about your brother and him. He's dealing with it," she said.

Isabelle looked slightly unraveled, but Clary could tell she'd absorbed every word. This was the first step, Clary knew, to getting Isabelle to consider her side. Which was also the side that Simon was on. If things went exactly to plan, it would mean that Simon was happy forever. And if Clary was to get what she wanted, who was she to begrudge her best friend of that? She wasn't sure she could trust Isabelle to be this understanding once she found out the truth someday, but just maybe she would be. And Clary knew now that she owed it to Simon to help him out if she could. She could be selfish with nearly everyone else, but not Simon.

"Isabelle." Clary said, interrupting the others girls thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if I rest now? I just really need to calm down. Tell Simon that I'll talk to him later and that I know he'll be okay, okay?" She asked.

The dark haired girl stood up, as if in a daze. "Right. Okay. I'm glad we could talk."

Clary smiled, and it was almost easy. When Isabelle left, Clary felt strange. She thought that might have been the nicest she had ever genuinely been to anyone besides her brother or Simon.

Isabelle had made it all the way to the kitchen before she realized she hadn't told Clary about Simon and the daylight. But when she smelled whatever Alec and Jace were eating, she decided she could wait. Clary wanted to rest anyway, and Isabelle was really hungry. Plus, she had some things to tell her companions.

"I need to talk to you guys," she said around a bite of food.

Both boys looked at her and raised their eyebrows.

"I was dating Simon."

Jace squinted at her, Alec's expression turned confused. "Was?" her brother asked.

"Was. When he was a human. Back before you guys even met Clary at the club. I broke it off because ... I was dumb it doesn't matter. But I'm telling you now because I want him back, vampire or not," she said, almost in disbelief that she had told the truth.

Alec's mouth was now freely hanging, Jace's expression was nearly comical. "You and a mundie," said her blonde friend.

"Me and a mundie. I didn't ask you for an opinion, so thank you for keeping it to yourself. I just wanted to tell you because he deserves for me to tell you. Especially if I'm going to get him back," she said, now feeling proud of herself.

She finished her food in their silence. After, she went outside to see Simon. He was leaning on another building across the street, looking a whole lot better. The blood thing was going to be a problem, but hopefully they could keep finding animal blood for him.

"Hey," she said when she approached. "You look better. Have you been just right here this whole time?"

"I finished what you guys got for me and then I went for a walk around town. Stopped in a meat place, I hope it wasn't the same one Alec got it. Don't want to get people ... um suspicious you know? Like how many people go around asking for blood?" said Simon.

"You'll figure things out. I mean, I know you can. Clary's just resting but she told me to tell you the same thing. That she knows you'll be okay," Isabelle told him.

Simon smiled. He really was looking a lot better.

"Clary said some other things too."

Simon lifted his eyebrows a little. "Other things?" he asked.

"About us."

"What about us?" he asked, Isabelle thought he almost sounded worried.

"That I needed to be honest with you and everyone else about what I want. And that if I did..."

"If you did?" Simon prodded.

"If I did I might be able to get you back."

Simon's eyes widened a little bit. "That's what you want?"

"That's what I want. And I know things are different now. I've changed and Angel knows you have I mean you're a vampire and I don't know what that means for how you are or anything and I know I really hurt you by just dropping you the way I did and lying for all that time and-"

Isabelle's babbling was cut off by Simon's lips. For a second, she couldn't even respond because of surprise. But finally, she was able to kiss him back. She could taste blood, and she found herself expecting to feel his fangs, but it was like they weren't there. Then he pulled away.

"I-" she started.

This time he cut her off with words. "Sorry. You were just babbling and I figured why not. But I am different now. I ... I can feel it you know? I'm not as much me. I'm dead Isabelle, and because of that I'm not gonna be as ... human. I understand now why moral code is so gray for vampires. And the way you killed the girl who turned me... one day that could be me. I know kissing you is kind of a mixed signal since I'm about to say this but ... I don't know if you should trust me Izzy."

It took Isabelle a second to find her words. She was so surprised at the confession, especially since it was obvious he was worried about saying it. "I ... I guess that makes sense. I mean ... I can promise you that I will try to be understanding. And I'll also be here to pull you back if you need to be pulled back. I just ... I want to be with you Simon. You've changed, but you're still Simon, and I still love you." By the Angel she almost wanted to run off a cliff with how cheesy she felt at the moment.

But it seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear, since he pulled her to him and kissed her again. She found herself deciding she might get used to the taste of blood in his mouth. And a small, and shrinking, part of her subconscious had the slightest problem with that thought, but she ignored it, which was currently very easy to do.


	61. Chapter 61

**a week later**

It smelled here, so badly that even Isabelle Lightwood was forced to scrunch up her nose in disgust. It was anyone's guess how long it had been since anyone lived here, and no one with the least bit sense would ever live here again. But apparently her boyfriend did not have said sense.

"Simon," she called out in a harsh whisper. Electricity? Here? Forget it. One might have thought it was five pm outside, never mind that it was closer to high noon.

"Living room," was the reply.

"Living chair," she corrected, mostly to herself. Mostly.

Her boyfriend, Simon Lewis- newbie vampire and sunlight extraordinaire (though you wouldn't know it by where he had decided to live for the past week since he'd been forcibly turned - or so Isabelle was almost sure what with the fact she had no idea how long he had been kidnapped for.) They had yet to figure out the sunlight thing, and going to the vampires for answers had not turned out well. They hadn't even made it inside the building before some pink haired rocker vamp dude was up in their face saying they wanted nothing to do with _rogues_. The weird look he had given Simon at the word had Isabelle convincing her brother and his already disinterested parabatai to just leave it alone. Simon had sent her a grateful look, so Isabelle considered it the right call. Though that left them with no idea. Simon had, obviously, been content to call it a blessing and let it go. He wasn't living like he felt blessed though.

"Hello my princess," he said, his words were almost -almost- not slurred. He might have gotten away with it, if he had chosen another name to call her. As it was, Isabelle raised her eyebrow.

"Hello, my badass queen of the whip?" He asked.

She gave him a look of clearly false humor. "Why are you drunk at noon in a smelly ancient halfway excuse for an apartment?"

He squinted at her. "I happen to like my smelly ancient uh, something else apartment. And I am drunk because ... because alcohol is apparently the only way I can handle that stuff. And I didn't want to go out and eat any innocent villagers. Thus," he finished, "drunk."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, ignoring the twinge of sadness that went through her. Simon had been complaining all week about his lack of ability to eat even a slice of pizza.

"Firstly, no you don't like this apartment. You just won't go home to your mother for whatever the stupid ass reason you gave me was, and you can't come in the institute with us because ... well because. Secondly, I am sorry about that. But I'm gonna have to insist that the alcohol alternative be taken off the table."

"Izzy," he sigh. "I'm fine."

She looked at him sadly, coming to sit on his lap but he put out his hand in refusal. She took a step back, rejected and annoyed before he came out with an explanation.

"You smell good."

Simon had told her the animal blood she'd found him was gross, but she had thought he was being dramatic.

"How long has it been since you had blood that wasn't ninety percent alcohol?"

"Um, two days I think. I had like a real sip a couple days ago."

"Simon!" she yelled "You can't be doing this for days on end."

He looked up at her in irritation. She could see clearly now the prominent purple circles around his eyes, and how he looked even paler than a vampire should. She couldn't believe that the blood really tasted that bad, that feeling the way he must be feeling was better.

"If it gets too much I'll have another normal sip okay?" He said, trying to sound placating.

She wasn't having it. Isabelle held out her wrist. "Drink."

His eyes flew wide open. "Iz... when I said you smelled good that was like to keep you away not some kind of ... I wasn't asking."

She only stared him down, jarring her wrist again to make her point clear.

"Simon Lewis. You are starving and I have tons of blood in me, plus I replace it really quickly. If you had told me ... well you did tell me but I didn't believe you because you didn't ... just drink it. I'm not asking," she ordered him.

"Isabelle," he said, very clear for a drunk guy. "That's not safe."

"You're saying I can't take care of myself?" She demanded.

His eyes went blank. "What? No! I'm saying that -"

Isabelle cut him off. "Now!"

For a couple seconds he only looked at her. Then he stood up and tried to walk away. Maybe he slipped from intoxication, or maybe Isabelle reached out and yanked him back, the world would have to deal with the mystery. In any case, Izzy's knife was suddenly out and slashing across the arm she'd latched on to. She knew she'd made the right decision when not enough blood for the size of the wound she'd just inflicted came spilling out. He looked at her in shock, the purple around his eyes increasing by the second. Then she was forcing her wrist into his mouth. His fangs seemed to snap out involuntarily, and then he bit into her.

Clary Fray was annoyed. Maryse's trial was set for three days from now, and representatives from the Clave were - according to what she'd managed to gather - coming to pick the Sword up from the Bone City tomorrow. And Clary had been glad, Jonathan had finally contacted Valentine yesterday and gotten the order to retrieve it before it could be fetched. Clary had been excited to get the news that there was finally something to do, until her excitement was effectively trampled on about twenty minutes ago when The Inquisitor had arrived to _collect _all four teenagers involved -including Clary herself.

Apparently it was negligence alone that lead to the Clave leaving the four unsupervised after everything had gone down. Luckily, Simon had at least been left out of things. But that still meant Jonathan was left to get the Sword alone. The worst part? She couldn't even call him to let him know he'd have to go it alone what with the Inquisitor- a woman who managed to be annoying without so much as opening her mouth- was staring directly at her, and had been staring at her since she'd laid eyes on her now twenty one minutes ago. They would have left to portal to Idris already if Isabelle had been here. But she'd gone out to see Simon, which was beginning to create a problem.

The Inquisitor sigh loudly in impatience. "One would think," she began, "that given a parent accused of treachery, that one would find it best to stay home instead of what was it? Going shopping?"

"I don't think staying inside playing with weapons for a week straight is any better a way of coping," Clary told her, some of her natural venom forcing its way into her voice.

The Inquisitor's eyebrows shot up. Clearly she hadn't expected that kind of a reply, as Clary had not even directly met her eyes once since she arrived. "You should watch your attitude Valentine's daughter."

Clary found herself locking eyes with Alec, a silent approval passing from him to her. She thought maybe getting along the sister meant the brother would start batting for your team. Though Alec wasn't actually aware of what team Clary batted for, it was progress. And since she couldn't kill him, especially not now, she decided an understanding would have to do.

"Sorry," Clary told the Inquisitor, the words meaningless.

"How long does it typically take for the Lightwood to shop?" The intolerable woman asked with unmasked irritation.

"With Isabelle anything is possible," Jace replied in nearly the exact same tone. In fact, it gave Clary pause. She remembered then some of the facts Jonathan had drilled into her when she'd learn her new companions backgrounds. The Inquisitor's name was Imogen Herondale, and unknown to her she had just spoken with her grandson. If Clary were alone, she would have laughed. And that was precisely what she needed- to be alone. Thirty seconds to send one text unnoticed before Isabelle came back and she departed to the Land Without Signal.

"I have to pee," Clary announced in the whiniest, most Valentine-ish voice she could muster. Imogen trained her eyes back on Clary, they were practically slits. She knew what the woman was thinking. Something along the lines of _just like Valentine's child to be difficult_. Then her face smoothed out. "I suggest you hurry up."

Clary practically sprinted down the hall, pulling out her cell phone the instant she slid into a stall.

C: Inquisitor showed. Taking me J A &amp; I to Idris for trial. Should have known. Get the sword.

She sent that text as quickly as possible and then immediately sent out another one to Simon.

C: Get Iz to come back now. We will be gone a while. Don't worry about me or Iz.

As soon as the second message sent Clary threw her cell phone to the ground and smashed it several times underneath her foot. Then she picked up the bits and flushed them down the toilet behind her. She had been lucky that she got to keep the phone for as long as she did, but in the heart of the Clave a secret cell phone wouldn't go over well. She ran back to the library they'd been sitting in as fast as possible.

A small part of Jonathan expressed the urge to throw the phone in his hand across the room. Idris. Clary was being taken to Idris before they'd managed to get the sword. Honestly, how had they not seen this coming? The Clave just leaving four young Nephilim - who were essential to the story no less - behind with no second glance? It was ridiculous, of course the higher ups had come back for them. Of course they would be interrogated. It was only common sense and Jonathan had missed it.

They'd taken their sweet time, waiting to be able to contact Valentine for orders instead of simply getting the sword immediately, and now it would be that much harder. The Silent Brothers were some of the greatest shadowhunters on the planet, low grade demonic help wouldn't cut it if he went in it alone. And now that Clary had been taken out of the equation, he would definitely have to cause the attention he had not planned to attract.

Simon was swimming in the taste of Isabelle's blood. From the moment she forced him to drink it, he had lost all control. It was impossible to stop. And it did not seem like she wanted him to. She had not resisted at all when he tossed away the wrist he'd been offered and sunk his fangs into her neck. He drunk with no precautions, with no will to ever stop. So much better than the barely numbing alcohol. And her hands were in his hair, keeping his teeth planted firmly in her artery. Before Simon even knew it, he was back in the couch she'd found him sitting in, her knees on either side of his waist, her body pressed against his everywhere. He barely noticed when her arms came out of his hair and landed limply on his shoulders. He was too focused on the feel of her heart thumping impossibly fast as it tried to replace all the blood flowing into him. So fast it shouldn't be ... and all at once he realized it shouldn't be. A heart should not be pumping so frantically fast like that. And what he was doing suddenly came crashing down onto him. With every bit of willpower he had, he pulled his teeth from her neck.

Everything was so clear when he opened his eyes. Everything was shining, colorful. He was no longer drunk with alcohol. His dank, abandoned living space was suddenly alive with sharp color, and he knew why. Isabelle's body slumped against his, her breathing ragged. He could still hear her heart in her chest, galloping like it was the last leg of a race.

"Oh my g-" he tried. The word didn't come, but he got over it. Slowly, he lifted Isabelle off of him easily, feeling stronger than he had ever felt, and placed her where he had just been sitting as he kneeled down in front of her.

"Izzy," he said, shaking her shoulders a little. "Isabelle."

After what felt much too long she blearily opened her eyes. "Simon?" she asked, her voice was weak. He released a relieved breath and simply watched for several minutes as her strength slowly returned to her.

"What happened?" She questioned sounding much better.

He stood up and backed away from her, suddenly needing to keep his distance. "Oh my ... Isabelle do you even realize what just ... what the hell were you thinking?" He demanded.

She sat up a little straighter at that. "You mean I really just let you ... until I ..." She seemed to be in disbelief, as if she could not fathom how the normal rules of vampirism would apply to their relationship.

"I told you I couldn't," he told her. "I was so thirsty Isabelle. You could have ... I could have killed you!"

She stood up, her legs blessedly keeping her upright without fail. "It might have not been my best plan. But you didn't kill me, I'm right here. We will just need to practice that a bit," she decided.

Simon felt his jaw fall. "Excuse me?"

"I won't let you get that thirsty again Simon, so next time it won't be so bad," she replied, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Like hell I'm putting my fangs anywhere near you again Izzy," he said, voice strong.

Whatever reply she'd been preparing was cut off by a buzz. It came from Simon's pocket. He refused to let himself even acknowledge it.

"Who do you have to text?" Isabelle said, curiosity making Simon anxious. He knew only one of two people were texting him, and that neither person wanted Isabelle knowing they were talking to him, or that they even existed depending.

"I called a guy for more blood earlier. I thought if it was a little fresher maybe I could stand it. I was planning to call him back and say never mind but you showed up and I forgot about it," he lied, grabbing the phone from his pocket. "I'll just tell him know."

He read through the message from Clary and faked a reply even though he didn't send one. Then he stuffed the phone back in his pocket and looked back up at Izzy.

"Shouldn't you be getting back?" He asked, trying to fulfill Clary's request.

"No. We're gonna talk about this until you listen," she replied, strong.

Simon knew if Clary wanted Isabelle back, now was not the time for this argument.

"No. No you're right," he tried to sound resigned. "It's really the only option right. Besides, I will never let that happen again."

Her face softened, clearly liking the idea that she'd won the argument so easily. She walked over to him and kissed him in a way that made him not want to pull away for totally different reasons than earlier. He would miss her for however long she was gone.

"I think I can stay for a little while longer," she said seductively.

Simon tried not to tense. He knew what she was saying and that under almost no circumstances would he ever refuse. And he knew Isabelle knew that, no one rejects Isabelle Lightwood, especially not her boyfriend who loves her. He couldn't just pull away and suggest she go without a real reason. But he also couldn't keep her here and do everything he had wanted to do to her for a long time without keeping Clary waiting.

He played the only card he had. "Really Iz? Here? It's kind of ..." she cut him off with another kiss.

"Does it really matter where we are?" She whispered.

Normal Simon would say no, absolutely not.

Demon kid crew Simon would say yes, unfortunately. But demon kid crew Simon would also be looked at suspiciously. And anyway, what could really happen if Clary was kept waiting another half hour or so?

"No," Simon said.

Isabelle laughed and pushed him back into the small couch, pulling her shirt over her head in almost the same movement.

Her hands reached back to unclasp her bra just as Simon decided this might take a little more than a half hour.

Clary was simmering with annoyance. Alec and Jace were beginning to look at her funny. She had texted Simon nearly an entire hour ago, and yet here they were - still sitting in the library waiting. She tried to keep her expression calm, but her acting skills were only so good.

"Should I direct the others to go find the Lightwood girl myself?" Imogen finally exploded at Jace. He was clearly the one in the room she liked the least.

"She will be here. Izzy just likes her free time, if you had called ahead she would have been here." He had added on that last part out of spite it seemed.

Clary couldn't say she didn't approve. This situation had passed intolerable many minutes ago. Then, blessedly, there was the sound of the institute doors opening. Imogen stood up and, not a moment later, an older shadowhunter male entered the room grasping Isabelle by the arm. She stood in killer heeled boots and a disheveled shirt and skirt with not a single shopping bag in sight, of course. The Inquisitor's eyes looked similar to that of a snake.

"Get your hands off me," Isabelle demanded, it seemed for another time. "What's going on?" She demanded, still squirming in his grip and taking in the sight of Clary and her companions. It took one look at Isabelle's hair for Clary to decide that when she got back, Simon would pay for that awful hour he cost her.

"I am here to take you, your brother and the two Morgenstern's to Idris in preparation of speaking at the trial of Mayrse Lightwood," Imogen said, monotone but for the nearly undetectable undertone of impatience.

Isabelle only stared. "We have to testify?" She asked.

Imogen sigh in irritation and didn't answer. Instead she said, "Come along now, we have wasted quite enough time."

Jonathan was concentrating harder than he could recall ever having done. Calling demons to him usually did not require this much focus, but this was no ordinary demon. Finally, when traitorous sweat had begun to gather on his forehead, he felt the shift in the air. He opened his eyes and took in the sight of his beautiful, fire haired sister.

"Jonathan," she squeaked, voice smaller than any tone the real Clary would ever use. The mirage reached for her neck at the same time a shiny red gash of blood appeared across it and it began spilling through fingers that looked so much like hers. For a moment, just one moment, he forgot. His feet almost made a movement towards her, no _it_, he remembered as he pulled back.

"Stop," he commanded, regathering his concentration. Now that it was here, it should be no harder to control than any other demon- at least he was almost sure. It obeyed and the image of Clary dying shattered like glass and in its place was what could only be described as a non-threatening blob.

"I'm not the one you're going to scare to death today," he told it.

Maybe it was his imagination, but the blob seemed to smile.

The only move Simon had made since Isabelle left was to put his pants back on. He knew Clary would be pissed that he kept her, that she would know. But he didn't particularly care just then. He let himself be content for another full minute before he realized that they had likely left like Clary said they would. He was the only vampire that could be outside right now, and the only Nephilim in the city were temporarily cleared out. He needed to feed and store up blood while he could. Real blood, and blood that didn't belong to his girlfriend.

He didn't care about hurting anyone else, but he would not lose control with Izzy again. That required getting used to his vampire side, and now he finally had the chance to do so. He'd taken a lot of blood from Izzy, but he was itching to drain someone. Really drain them. He sat up from his now favorite couch in the world and left his dirty dwelling.


	62. Chapter 62

**3 days earlier**

Alec Lightwood was no stranger to secrets. In fact, Alec had been a secret keeper for a very long time. His relationship with secrets began young, when he first admitted his attraction to the same sex to himself. Shortly thereafter, or hell, it may have been around the same time, his relationship with secrets strengthened when he fell for his Parabatai Jace Wayland (or apparently it was Morgenstern now, but that didn't really matter.) Those secrets had been heavy burdens for many years. Recently, meaning a few or more months ago, he had developed another -albeit lighter - secret about a crush on one High Warlock of Brooklyn. Alec preferred that secret over the others. He was tired of his sexuality making everything so difficult, and, as sad as it sounded, it didn't have to be now that his father was gone. His mother, well, she couldn't exactly judge him at the moment. And Jace? That had faded. He still loved Jace - of course, they were parabatai - only not like that anymore. Magnus played the most important role in that. And the best, Magnus himself had stopped being a secret. The others, his precious group of four/five but really three with him included, had all teased him about Magnus enough times. They all knew, even if a lengthy discussion had never taken place. And Alec preferred it that way. For a time, just days really, he had allowed himself to believe that his long standing relationship with secrets had drawn to a close. Until his sort-of-boyfriend had handed him another one on a silver platter. And the worst part was that this particular secret was probably - unbelievably - the worst secret of all.

Because his secret this time was knowledge that he had been strictly advised not to share.

His new secret was simple: he knew about Clary Fray. The real her. The full blown bat-shit-crazy, demonically durable, daughter of Valentine Morgenstern.

After everything had went down with his mother, and he had watched her be carted off by Clave members towards a trial that would surely result in her never being free again, he had sought out comfort. He had went straight to Magnus, and after he had shared what had happened with his Warlock, Magnus had told a story of his own.

"Alec," Magnus' voice interrupted his thoughts. "If you think any harder you might end up passing out, and then Chairmen Meow will end up licking your ears to wake you up. I'd rather not my cat get tossed across the room in the wake of that."

Alec's smirk was short lived. "I'm sorry," he admitted. "I'm just worried."

"You've been worried since I told you, but you don't have anything to worry about right this moment. Whatever Clary's endgame is, it clearly doesn't involve hurting anyone for the moment," Magnus assured him.

"I'm not worried about anyone dying. I'm worried about their lives. Isabelle's life. They're friends now. And Simon... what if he knows? What if he's helping?" Alec's voice was filled with nervous energy with no place to go.

Magnus sigh. "As I've said, we have nothing to prove that right now. Simon could be completely harmless."

"He could have been," Alec replied, "but now he's a vampire. Vampires aren't harmless. And a lot of them turn into heartless monsters."

The High Warlock only rolled his eyes. "Alexander. We will handle it. We just can't right now."

"I know." Alec sigh. "It's just she's gonna hurt my baby sister. I can feel it. She might have hurt her already. Who knows what she's been responsible for, lying all this time. I just wish you had told me."

Magnus looked down and didn't meet his eyes. "You have to understand, Alec, the only thing I knew about Clary was that her blood was partially that of a demon. Not completely unlike mine. I had no way of knowing how that would affect her growing up. She's a shadowhunter after all, and I had previously believed that angel blood was supposed to win out."

"I'm not blaming you," Alec assured him. "It just still doesn't make any sense. You said that you had been watching her and she'd been off and then she pulled some weird stuff with a rune and lied about following us. So you knew. But does that mean I'm supposed to keep an eye on Jace now too? He's her brother by blood. And you said -"

"Don't jump to conclusions. I told you what I knew about Jonathan Morgenstern based on what Jocelyn told me in a daze half way out of my door a decade and a half ago. And Jocelyn isn't alive to confirm anything anymore. She could have been lying to get sympathy from me so I'd help, she could have lied for any number of reasons. You have to remember she also told me that her son was dead, and clearly that's not true. Plus, I gave Clary a long while before I made up my mind. You've known Jace since you were kids," the warlock finished, triumphant he'd at least adverted that particular portion of Alec's panic.

"You're right," Alec breathed, relieved. "It could be just Clary. So why not kill her and get it over with?" He said the last part quickly, as if he'd just thought of it.

His face fell when he took in Magnus' grim look. "Alexander. Clary Fray may look like a dainty high schooler with bright green eyes on the outside. But she isn't. I saw it all before she took off. She's calculating. She is capable of ignoring the very runes on her skin and of such intense glamours even I have to concentrate to see through. She may look non threatening, act the part even, but she is a very dangerous creature with charcoal eyes and the devil knows what up her sleeves. I wasn't trying to scare you the other day, I was trying to keep you safe."

Magnus' tone was so serious, even for Magnus, that Alec didn't say anything more about going up against Clary. But he was feeling more and more useless by the minute. All those things were true, fine, but what could be done about it? He asked the same a moment later.

"Wait," the warlock responded. "Watch. Let her make a move, tip her hand a bit. We have to at least have an idea of what she might be capable of if we have hope of stopping whatever she's got planned. Just be patient Alexander, please."

"Okay. Am I supposed to watch Simon too?" Alec asked.

"Yes, if for no other reason than that he is important to Clary. He could be innocent, but if he isn't it's important we know."

Alec only nodded, silently agreeing to wait and watch. And most importantly to play nice.

**the present**

Keeping control over Agramon was way more difficult than it had been during the first fifteen minutes. It must be just under Lilith in rank or something like that, he decided. It wasn't usually this hard. Once he sent the Greater Demon into the Bone City, however, all Jonathan really had to do was wait. Agramon did not need much encouragement to kill. He was left only to sit and ponder why such a powerful demon had taken such an unbecoming shape in front of him. Surely a Greater Demon that far up the scale at least had a true form that was slightly more... well, not formless. There was no sound as he stood in the grass near the entrance of the Silent City. Apparently even while dying of fear, the Brothers remained quiet. Or he had spoken too soon, there were definitely screams now. Not as many as normal people would release, but enough.

When he felt the Greater Demon resume his fight against his control, he knew the job was done. He forced it to returned to him, and it did so in the form of Clary. Except there was no blood on her neck this time. "May I be released now, _master_?" The demon said the last word with deep irritation and sarcasm. The voice sounded so realistic that Jonathan almost, almost smiled.

"You know I can't just let you go Agramon. I'm actually almost sorry about it, but I can't," he told it, trying to pretend he wasn't sweating.

Not-Clary's face half smiled, right before Jonathan dismissed it to the abyss. As soon as the Demon was gone, he gulped in a huge breath. Taking all the time in the world, Jonathan merely made his way down the steps into the darkness below.

Locating the Sword took no time at all, and with no one left to guard it it was in his hands in seconds. It almost wasn't fair. One of the most powerful objects in the world, and it was that easy to take. _Thank you Lilith,_ he thought with a smile. Though it had not been as easy as he would have preferred. He stepped over dead bodies of Silent Brothers on his way out, glad that his job was done for now.

Simon had been under the impression that drugs would make a person's blood taste less appealing. That, though, had once and for all been disproven for him. When he had left his hole in the wall, it was with the full intention of going out and well, killing some people. But then he had thought of Isabelle. More specifically what had happened with Isabelle, how he had lost control.

He hadn't been as thirsty as she had thought he was. If he had been he would have killed her. Still, he'd completely lost control. And a lot of that was due to the fact that he wasn't used to control. He had come out of the dirt and since then he had pretty much drank whoever he wanted. Before Isabelle, he had only stopped under some sort of force. So he had decided, about twenty minutes after heading out, that he needed to get that under wraps. He needed to be able to stop when he was supposed to. For Isabelle, but also for his cover. For Clary.

So drugged up, hallucinating people who were too far up in the clouds to remember or question were his best bet. And it turned out that drugged blood tasted good, better than regular blood. Or maybe Simon was high by default, God knew spiking the animal blood with alcohol had been effective. He loved the way everything looked like this, loved that he could still go out in the sun.

Now that he was thinking about it, though, he distinctly remembered that down in the sewer he had had to avoid the beams of sunlight that had traveled in during the day. But then the next sunrise everything was fine. And the only blood he had gotten between having avoid those beams and almost being turned to ash was Jace's, for like a couple of seconds before he was yanked off. Hadn't Clary said something about Jace being experimented on too? Or maybe he was just making up reasons now. Maybe that had nothing to do with anything, maybe Clary had never even told him that and he was remembering something wrong. He sigh, deciding it didn't really even matter. Plus, better that he not know so that when other jealous vamps tried to get the info out of him, there would be nothing to share.

Ah Clary. He missed her, and he missed Isabelle too. He had been feeding off druggies for about four days now, he thought so at least, and the shadowhunters had yet to return from wherever they'd gone. The bright side, though, was that Simon was getting better at controlling himself. Speaking of control, Simon realized he had not seen Jonathan in days. Jonathan couldn't be with Clary, since Isabelle and the others were. So where the hell was he? Why was Simon the only one who had nothing to do?


	63. Chapter 63

"I'm confused. You said that your memory was altered, but later on you claim that you just happened to remember where your mother hid the Cup. You don't think that that maybe doesn't add up Miss uh Morgenstern?"

Clary only blinked, controlling what felt like every single muscle in her face to prevent an expression of distaste from crossing it. She would remain perfectly neutral, perfectly calm. Never mind the fact that it must have been more than twenty four hours since she and the others had been allowed into the city and they hadn't even been given the pleasure of bathing. No. The only thing that Clary had done in Alicante so far was be interrogated, and she had a feeling that Jace and the Lightwoods were in the same boat.

"Can you tell me again why we even have to make these statements? Don't you guys have some special sword to make sure people tell you the truth? What is the point of this if you aren't using that? Because clearly you don't trust us," her voice was monotone.

"The Sword will be retrieved tomorrow morning, but it is easier if we have previously made statements to compare once the sword is put to use. And that will not be done until the actual trial," said sour-face. "Now, if you wouldn't mind answering the question another time for me."

"My memories were blocked. But after spending time in the shadow world, they must have began unraveling. I'm not a warlock, I don't know how spells work. Which," she added, "I have already told you."

Sour-face only nodded and scribbled something else. Probably something like _uncooperative_. She was starting to reach the point of not caring.

Isabelle Lightwood sigh dramatically, cutting off whatever question about her mother that blonde-bitch was asking.

"I thought we would be given somewhere to stay while we waited for the trial. No one said anything about previously made statements, and certainly no one said it would take this long."

"We take Circle business very seriously miss Lightwood. We have been lenient with your family in the past, and look where it has gotten us," said Blondie.

"It's got to have been more than a day by now! I want to eat!" Isabelle shouted, finally reaching the breaking point for her patience. She hoped the others had not cracked yet.

"Once you tell us everything we want to know, you will."

"What is your relationship to Mr Bane?" Grey Beard asked. He had wrinkles in his face, lots of them. Alec had counted thirteen. And recounted. And recounted. The wrinkles became more pronounced when he asked the latest question.

"Why does it matter?" Alec asked.

"Mr Bane seems to have played a crucial role in hiding the Cup, and yet you deflect every question regarding him," the man explained.

"Magnus didn't hide anything," Alec protested. "He tried to cover up Clary's memories only because Jocelyn Fairchild asked him too. He didn't even know she had the Cup when he did it either."

Grey Beard's eyes sparkled, and Alec knew that he had just displayed the strongest reaction that he had since he'd gotten here. But he couldn't have helped it. The questions so far had just been about his mother and sometimes his father and sister. They'd also asked a lot of questions about Jace and his bloodline. Including Clary. And the lies had burned when he'd told them, but he didn't out the little witch. Magnus had made him promise not to. So he'd kept his cool thus far, but blaming Magnus for anything? He would not let them do that.

"Please answer the question about Mr Bane, Alexander."

"Fine. He's my ... well he's sort of my boyfriend. Kind of. I think. I'm just gonna say he is just because of that look on your face," Alec finished, temporarily proud of himself.

"As in ... lover? I'm to understand that you're claiming to be a homosexual, correct?" Grey Beard did not even attempt to mask his disgust. Alec even imagined he had moved backwards slightly in his chair, and that pissed him off.

He scooted his chair close enough to the small table between them to rest both his elbows on it, and smiled a sickly sweet smile at the man. "Yes. That's correct," he said firmly.

That was the last of the questions about Magnus.

"This act of silence has passed being tiresome Mr. Morgenstern. If you fail to cooperate with the Clave, we could have you charged." The woman in front of Jace smiled. Her teeth were slightly yellowing, and her hair was such a dead shade of brown it might as well have belonged to a decaying body.

Every time they called him Mr Morgenstern, he almost protested it. But after this many hours, he had gotten good at not reacting. No matter what this bitch said, Jace knew that they couldn't charge him for a thing without proof. And they would never get it, because he wasn't guilty of anything. Plus, there was nothing he felt like saying. The Clave would get whatever information that the Clave wanted, and they were surely capable of doing so without his input. He had enough on his mind without this. So he only continued to stare, not making eye contact and barely blinking. Not to mention pretending he wasn't about to drop out of his chair from boredom.

"What can you tell me about how Hodge Stark-" the woman tried to ask after what was probably more hours had passed.

The question that would not have been answered anyway was interrupted, though, when the door to his interrogation room opened. A woman who was actually pretty stood there, her face saying that something was very wrong.

"Michelle," she said, her voice indicating the same thing.

"What is it Bethany?" His interrogator asked, impatient.

The woman's eyes flickered to Jace for a moment before she answered. "There was an attack in the Silent City. And ... the Soul Sword is gone."

Clary knew almost the exact moment when the Clave realized what had undoubtedly happened to the Silent Brothers. She had been left alone to think about how _aggressive _she was being and _how badly it could affect all her friends._ But after the Sword was gone, Sour-face had practically slammed open the door to the room they were keeping her, with a face that could now be described as furious. Her lips almost twitched.

When her interrogator came over and yanked her up by the arm to haul her out of the room, her only question was, "Does this mean I get a bath now?"

"Shut up," the woman replied.

"I thought the whole point of us being here was to talk," Clary commented, cheeky.

Furious-face looked about ready to slap her, but didn't. Instead, about two minutes later, she threw Clary into what could only be a cell. Jace and the Lightwoods joined her shortly after.

When Grey Beard tossed Alec into a cell, his sister, parabatai and that parabatai's demonic sibling were already sitting in it.

"Did they tell any of you what the hell is going on?" He asked them.

His sister looked up at him gravely. "I heard the guards talking. They said something about the Soul Sword. I think it was stolen."

It was actually nothing but random that Alec happened to look glance over at Clary as Isabelle had said the last word. But if he hadn't he wouldn't have seen the blink-and-you-miss-it half-smirk that came to Clary's face.

And that was all it took for him to know that yes, the Soul Sword had been taken, and, somehow, Clary had a hand in it.

"Yeah, and we're in a cell because they're going to try and blame us," Jace informed him, getting Alec's attention again.

He wrestled for several seconds with the desire to grab Clary and throw her against the bars, to demand that she tell them what the hell was really going on. Because she knew, she knew everything and all she was doing was sitting there and pretending to be a victim.

"They can't blame us," the redhead in question said, sounding believably desperate. "We were here, all of us."

Alec heard Isabelle gasp, and his eyes trained back on her. "Not all of us," Izzy whispered.

"You can't mean Simon," Jace protested. "None of us told them about him. And even if we had, there's no way they're stupid enough to think Simon did something like that. How could he of? The Sword was in the Silent City, and Simon is a vampire."

"They interrogated us for like two straight days, Jace. The woman who raised three of us is going on trial for crimes against the Nephilim tomorrow and the Sword just happens to be taken today. And we all just happened to forget Simon existed and not to mention anything about him even though he has ties to all of us. That looks bad. And we're all in a cell, so clearly suspicion is all they need. Common sense be damned," Isabelle reminded them all.

"This isn't happening," Clary whispered, almost as if she were going into shocked denial. Or whatever. Alec didn't know, he only knew that it was bull shit.

He held his tongue to prevent himself from saying so. Instead he plopped down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. "This isn't as bad as you think," he assured her.

She looked up at him, her smile watery, her eyes bright green. It was easier to pretend, for now, that she was actually who she pretended to be.

Vampire blood, werewolf blood, faerie blood, warlock blood. Four downworlders would die for a ritual. And a useless one in Jonathan's opinion. Especially if they never found out anything about the Mirror. But for now things weren't up to him, so he would do what he was ordered to do. When his father had told him about what the ritual was meant to do, he had mentally sigh. Controlling demons. Big deal. But to Valentine, who was completely unaware that he had not one but two children who were already capable of that with no assistance, it was a big deal.

It was different though, Jonathan knew. Different from even the Cup. That Sword, after a change of alliance, could mean a demon army. That was a hell of a lot more than what Clary and himself could do, so really his dishonesty was affecting nothing.

Jonathan was not his father, he didn't have anything personal against downworlders. In fact, he wanted to give a lot of the world over to them. And Simon was his friend. Killing these four downworlders would not be enjoyable. So he decided to start with his least favorite kind. Smartass, cocky lycanthropes.


	64. Chapter 64

Simon did not know how he knew, but he did. He was being watched, he could feel it. He might have suspected other vampires, after all he wasn't exactly popular. But that theory was ruined by the daylight streaming down on him. He was a little, well, a lot strung out. So it could have been something like paranoia that was getting to him. But if he had to bet in this moment, he would bet that he was being followed.

"Hey!" Isabelle Lightwood shouted from behind the bars, earning a resounding groan from all three of her companions. "We deserve to know why we're being imprisoned down here!"

At this point there was no reason she could see why she shouldn't yell and complain. This was completely illegal, it had to be. Whatever suspicions the Clave had about the four of them was unproven. They couldn't just be abandoned down here like criminals.

"Izzy," her brother said tiredly. "Give it a rest."

She whirled on him, on all of them with fire in her eyes. "No. We have a right to know what we're being accused of, and to know what's going on up there."

"Is that so Miss Lightwood?" asked a voice.

Isabelle jumped in time with the others and turned around, coming face to face with none other than the Inquisitor.

Isabelle lifted her chin. "Yes it is so. We aren't guilty of anything."

The older woman stared her and the others down for a long time before her shoulders gave ever so slightly. "Unfortunately, you are correct. The Clave leaders have decided that there is not enough un circumstantial evidence to hold you any longer."

Alec, Jace and Clary all stood up behind Isabelle. "Does this mean we're free to go?" asked Jace.

The Inquisitor glared at the redhead, clear hatred in her face more so than with herself or even Alec and Clary. She said the next words through her teeth. "Yes. But you are not permitted to leave Alicante until after the trial of Maryse Lightwood, which has been postponed indefinitely."

"Postponed?" Alec protested. "Why?"

The woman began unlocking their cell as she answered. "A larger scale Clave meeting has been called. Presumably," she eyed them all distastefully, "Valentine has now come to possess the Mortal Sword as well as the Cup. That along with a potentially disastrous event that has occurred in New York just hours ago makes it necessary to convene. And of course, we do not trust the four of you to return to New York at such a volatile time."

"To what event are you referring?" Alec asked as he exited the cell.

"A faerie was found in Central Park drained completely of blood."

Isabelle didn't want to say it, what with her relationship to one. But it was practically common sense. "Vampire attack?"

The Inquisitor looked at her with irritation as she passed her. "We thought the same yesterday when a dead werewolf was found under the same conditions, and again only hours later when the same was found of another vampire. This morning they discovered the faerie. We came to the same conclusions as you Miss Lightwood, after all who could trust a vampire?" Isabelle tried to ignore the hopefully-coincidental double meaning in the question. She couldn't afford to be worried she was right about them discovering Simon. Oblivious to Isabelle's inner turmoil, the older woman continued. "But the Fair Folk are a whole other matter. As always, it may become necessary to once again save the downworlders from themselves."

_Right_, thought Isabelle, _because the Clave cares so much about downworlders. _She knew they only cared now because everyone knew of Valentine's hatred for the Accords and all downworld. They were threatened, not concerned, and Isabelle was disgusted.

"Where are we supposed to go then? Since we can't go home. You would think you guys would want more Nephilim in New York thanks to the attack, not less." That came from Jace, all strategy as usual.

The inquisitor looked as if she wished she could ignore him. "We want real reinforcements in New York, and we have sent them. We do not need to send children back," she snapped.

"We are adults," Alec protested.

"Barely," the inquisitor bit back, but for the most part ignored the point. She then turned from them, gesturing for them to follow her. She led them up the same cement staircase they had been led down yesterday, or perhaps it had been more than a day. Isabelle wasn't sure. The only thing she was sure of at this point was that she was determined not to think about how the same staircase also went down. She didn't want to think about the cells even below theirs.

"Where are we going to be staying?" Clary asked as they followed.

"Interesting that you would ask," the inquisitor said, "because I am in fact taking you to family."

"Family," Clary repeated from steps behind Isabelle. "I don't have any family in Idris."

"You said you were raised for many years by Lucien Graymark, isn't that correct?" She didn't wait for Clary to answer before finishing. "He had a sister. She lives a short distance from here. You four will be staying with her until more accommodating hosts arrive in Alicante."

They passed the floor where they had been interrogated as she spoke and finally came to the top of the stairs. The sun was shining through the windows. It must have been late afternoon.

"More accommodating hosts?" Alec questioned, suspicious.

"Miss Graymark did not have a good relationship with her brother, it took some convincing to get her to welcome you. She also does not have a large dwelling. The four of you will eventually have to be relocated. Once the world's Nephilim receive the sent out call to Idris, such hosts will arrive."

"You think," added Jace.

The inquisitor whipped around to face him, startling the four of them. "This is a serious time for the Clave, Mr. Morgenstern. It is not to be taken lightly and it will not be ignored, not by anyone. But traveling does unfortunately take time. We must allow for that, as notices have only just been sent out not even an hour ago. Keep your attitude in check," she finished.

Jonathan had killed the werewolf and the vampire first for a reason. The two species were - though for stupid reasons - enemies. Turning up dead one after the other, especially when the how involved blood - well, that would be the best bet at not attracting attention to what was really going on. But the faerie? Yeah, that wasn't going unnoticed. He needed to find a warlock and he needed to kill it fast, before the city was filled to the brim with actually-trained Nephilim adults.

Warlocks, though, were typically not very trusting. And as the only downworlders who hadn't been attacked, they were even less likely to come when called. But a warlock was also his only shot at a portal. Sure, there was another way he could travel, but he didn't feel like going back to the apartment without Clary with him. This was the simplest way left. So he had saved the Warlocks for last. He hoped the right price might be able to attract just one of them. The requirement was blood, after all, not intelligence.

If he wanted to enter Idris, though, he needed a plan. His father's plan was going to come to its head soon enough, and he needed to be able to move freely without suspicion. He needed an in. Thankfully, thanks to the announcement the Clave had just sent out, there were a lot of Nephilim on their way to Idris right now. One of them would have to fit the bill.

Early this morning, Magnus had woken with a start from a horrific dream. There had been so much blood, so much carnage. He did not want to admit to himself that it was a premonition, but he feared that it was. Either way, the time to sit back and strategize about what to do with Clary Fray had to come to an end. But Alec was already in Idris, likely following Magnus's own sound advice. And his fellow shadowhunters had no idea. But there was someone who knew about Clary, who probably knew what she was planning and how it involved Valentine Morgenstern. Simon Lewis probably knew everything, and if he could get the vampire boy talking, maybe he could stop his dream from becoming a reality. So he had tracked him, and what he had found was almost pitiful. Nothing but a very pale boy in a band t who at this point might have been unaware of his own name. So Magnus had followed Simon for several blocks, until the daylighter had backed himself into a corner. Or rather, an alley.

"Who the hell is there?" Simon shouted, startling some rats. It was lucky no one else was around to hear him.

Magnus came into his view. "Simmons, I am Magnus Bane, I'm sure you know who I am."

Simon's face became stone. "Yeah. You're one of Clary's uh ... friends. And my name is Simon," He tacked on halfheartedly.

"Of course. But I'm not sure I'd consider myself a friend of Clary's," Magnus replied.

"I should probably go then," said Simon, but made no move with his feet.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Magnus said anyway. "We need to talk first. Maybe not here though, and maybe after you've ... sobered up."

"I'm totally sober," the vampire boy lied. The lie was obvious even if he hadn't been practically swaying.

Magnus smirked.

Not an hour after they had been _released _they were in fact delivered to Amatis Graymark's door. A woman with brown hair and blue eyes that were all too familiar to Clary met them at the door.

"Imogen," Amatis said to the woman just behind the four teens.

"Amatis," the Inquisitor replied back, for once not unkindly. "I am sorry about this."

Amatis smiled, actually smiled, at Imogen. In the back of her mind Clary knew of their relationship to one another, but still. The idea anyone could smile at such an awful woman was baffling. "Don't worry about it. I understand you weren't given a choice, and I'm sure none of these four will cause me much trouble for the time being."

Imogen nodded her head and ushered Clary and the rest inside, and left without another word.

"I'm sorry," Amatis began. "Imogen can be, well, Imogen. But she isn't so bad if you don't have any relationship to Valentine Morgenstern."

No one said anything. So Amatis asked, "So which one of you is my adoptive niece?"

Isabelle put her hand on Clary's back and pushed her forward just a little. "That would be me," Clary answered, allowing herself to stumble slightly.

"Ah of course," said Amatis. "You look just like Jocelyn."

It was all Clary could do not to scowl openly.

Amatis laughed. "Of course all teenagers adore being compared to their parents at first glance don't they?" she said sarcastically, laughing again. Clary smiled, pleased an excuse had been given for her.

"Anyway," she said. "I'm sure you were warned this isn't the most spacious place to live. You two," she gestured to the two girls," will have to share. As will you two," she finished, gesturing to the boys.

"We're happy to accept any housing you offer us," Alec said, placating. He obviously knew that someone besides Clary had to say something, and this woman who didn't know any of them from Adam before today apparently deserved to be thanked for her - potentially unwilling - hospitality. At least Clary didn't roll her eyes.

Amatis, though, smiled at him. "Don't worry. After a few days I'm sure they'll move you somewhere with more space. Maryse and Robert had friends in the community... before. I don't know where any of that stands, but the Penhollows at least have never been the unforgiving type." She finished lamely, having obviously realized about halfway through that bringing up Alec and Izzy's parents probably wasn't the best idea.

The four of them only nodded.

"Anyway," Amatis said after a beat of silence. "Make yourselves at home."

"Wow, sir. That's quite the chunk of change you got there." The warlock looked to be barely sixteen, he could have been younger or a thousand years older for all Jonathan knew.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "If you can get me where I need to go, it's all yours," he reminded the boy.

"France? Yeah sure. No problem actually. I wonder why no one else offered to help you. Seems something pretty easy to do to me," the boy boasted.

It took a lot of willpower for Jonathan not to roll his eyes, but his patience had been wearing a bit thin before he'd gotten here. He had had to swing by Renwick's. Shadowhunters had swept the place after what happened with the Lightwood family, but they couldn't have found where his father had kept everything. And the records, communication devices, and everything else he'd needed to keep tabs on his loyalists and non loyalists had to be still there. So Jonathan had snuck in. It had taken a lot longer than expected to find a shadowhunter in the records that he could replace. Every Nephilim who matched his age was either too thin, of different nationality, or simply had too much family that would recognize him. By the time he'd found a shadowhunter who was none of those things, it was past nightfall. And he had known that his father would want everything that he'd had to leave behind in Renwick's back. So now he had wasted time, and was carrying around unnecessary weight. All while having to listen to some idiot child-warlock go on about how he'd scored all this money he was obviously never going to see.

"Can we just get going?" Jonathan asked the warlock, interrupting whatever the boy had been talking about.

His eyes went wide and he went silent, finally focusing on his magic. The portal was open soon enough.

"Great," Jonathan said, and stepped forward. He made like he was going to hand the payment to the boy, and the warlock reached out his hand. Instead, Jonathan grabbed onto it, and pulled the warlock boy through the portal with him.


	65. Chapter 65

Magnus Bane was unsure if dumping a bucket of ice cold water over the vampire boy to wake him was worth ruining his new Persian rug. He really liked his rug, but Alexander was unsafe. He had been unexpectedly taken to the Glass City with Clary not half a week after Magnus had stupidly told him to not even flinch until they knew something concrete. While it was true that Magnus's advice - er orders - to Alec were sound at the time, he had thought that he would have time.

Time to figure out Clary's capabilities and weaknesses. Time to figure out how to take her out before she caused irreparable damage to the shadow world. But that time was gone. Clary had been welcomed right into the heart of Idris, likely dangerously close to her father. And while Magnus had meant what he'd said to Alec about Jace, he suddenly couldn't shake what it had been like the last time, according to Alec, Jace had seen his biological father.

There was all of a sudden so many factors in play. The idea of having time was now comical. And the only person who may have answers about the young, threatening Clarissa Fray and her family was this dark haired vampire who had been unconscious on Magnus's rug for many, many hours. But it wasn't really about the rug. He wanted to give the boy a chance to simply be helpful before he did anything drastic. He didn't think being hostile to begin with would inspire any good will. So he had tried to be patient at first. Had taken a nap, after securing him of course. Had otherwise occupied himself, attempting to think of anything besides Alec. Telling himself that Clary could not destroy the world in less than a week. But now, Magnus needed the boy to wake up.

And finally, just before Magnus had resolved himself to use the water and risk upsetting things before they had even started, Simon suddenly groaned and rolled slightly. His eyelids fluttered at first, before suddenly popping open wide all at once. Magnus noted that they were bloodshot, not surprising. The boy looked more undead than even the undead were supposed to look. Addiction was a heavy burden, Magnus knew that well.

"Where ... how did I get here?" asked the dark haired vampire while he scrambled into a sitting position against Magnus's other couch.

"I brought you here," Magnus answered him. "This is my apartment, and that is my cat." He pointed out Chairman Meow, who was currently lounging on the armrest to the left of Simon's head.

"And why would you do that?" Simon asked him, ignoring his cat entirely. "And what did you do to me?"

"You're here because I needed to talk to you. And we would have drawn too much attention in the streets of New York. And I didn't do a thing to you. Yet." He made the last word sound like a threat, despite having no desire to hurt the vampire boy. He would do only what he had to do.

He was surprised, though, when Simon's lips curled up at the corners. He seemed to be trying not to laugh. "Are you saying that, what, you're gonna torture me? That's why my head feels ready to burst?" To Magnus's interest, he laughed, it sounded like an off-balanced cackle.

"Like I said, I haven't yet done anything to you. Your head is likely pounding as a symptom of withdrawal. You've been drooling on my rug for quite a long time." He pointed out to him, still baffled by the somewhat manic laughter.

"I'm not a drug addict," Simon protested.

Magnus knitted his eyebrows together. Could the boy truly not understand how this works? "You are aware of the extracurricular activities of the people you've been choosing to feed on, correct?" He questioned.

Simon's face turned to stone and he said nothing.

"You are then. Or," he began, "maybe you do not like me being aware of your ... dietary habits?"

The vampire's jaw locked. That was it. He knew that Alec's sister was dating the vampire in front of him, and was probably unaware of his feeding habits. He was unsure if Alexander knew either.

"No matter," said Magnus. "We are not here to discuss your addictions nor your girlfriend." He waved his hand around, as if waving away those two concerns.

Simon's eyebrow raised, as if wondering what he was being asked then.

"We are here to discuss Clary Fray," Magnus told him.

Simon's face once again became marble. Unfeeling. He looked right through Magnus, as if he were not there.

"It is not my intention to harm you, Simon Lewis. And I am not even sure you are aware how dangerous your friend is. But I'm afraid I cannot let you leave here until you tell me everything you know about her. I am sorry."

Simon propped his knees up to either side of him, instead of leaving his legs flat against the floor. He rested both arms on either leg and leaned his head back against the couch cushion behind him. "Then I guess you're not letting me leave."

Magnus's eyes narrowed. "You do know of her blood then. That leads me to believe you know how to harm her as well."

One side of the vampire's mouth twitched. He seemed to be hiding a smirk. "You want to kill her?"

Magnus worked to keep his irritation in check. He had told Alec that this vampire boy was probably harmless. Had assured him that Simon was probably ignorant, would never hurt his sister. He had been naive to make such assurances, the vampire clearly knew everything. Worse, was clearly okay with all of it. Any plot Clarissa had, Magnus was now sure that Simon completely supported it. All it took was one look at his face. It was sickening.

"How many does she intend to kill?" Magnus asked instead of answering.

Simon smiled earnestly now, flashing the fangs that had no reason to be out. Likely, he probably just liked them. Again, off-putting.

"Ah, don't worry about that. Honestly. Don't bother," Simon answered.

So confident. Magnus grimaced. "You are not going to make this easy, are you?"

The fanged smile widened and another unhinged laugh came bubbling out. Magnus sighed.

France, by mundane standards, was definitely a preferable place to die. Jonathan thought the dead man had been given that much at least. So had the warlock.

Sebastian was a good-sounding name. Jonathan thought that, after he was done with the false identity, he might keep it. He hated both his parents after all. Why not take a name that he had earned for himself?

As a false identity, though, it was just as useful as he thought it would be. He had contacted a new _relative _of his, a girl named Aline, who did not even question who he was at all. Verlac had obviously not spoken to or seen his extended family in ages, which made everything even easier. The young woman had not asked him any important questions, only simple personal ones, and he had memorized all the correct answers. It was child's play to get into Idris after that. And the girl - who was pretty by any standard with her deeply black hair and doe eyes - had practically met him at Alicante's gates.

This was after he had taken a small detour and returned to the manor he'd called home for many years and handed over the - now infernally aligned - Soul Sword. Valentine, for what it was worth - which to Jonathan was now nothing, had been pleased. The only new orders he'd received after that were as simple as they were all but impossible: find the Mirror.

His father had said it as if he hadn't been trying to do the very same for months and years and more than a decade. As if he knew anything about it even after so much time besides the fact that it was a mirror. He had issued the command as if he expected Jonathan to do it in less than a half hour, and then he'd sent his son on his way.

Aline had been animated, chatting about the city's landmarks with deep interest. It was obvious that she had only just barely arrived herself. When they entered the home she took him to, there were still packed bags in certain corners. She had _re-introduced her cousin _to the family and directed him to an empty room.

The Clave must be very smug to believe themselves so powerful when it was this easy for an immortal half-demon - scratch, two immortal half-demons - to be welcomed in Alicante with minimal questions asked and wide open arms. Jonathan was not complaining. Well he was, but only about the awful hair dye he'd had to subject himself to to be here.

Simon hurt, he hurt everywhere. He had not wanted to believe what the warlock had said about being addicted to anything, but it was true. He knew after Magnus had started bleeding Simon dry on the kitchen floor. The drugged blood leaving him had made the ache in his skull increase until it was a pain he hadn't even thought possible to feel. Not to mention the normal thirst that was next to unbearable. The pain caused by the wounds themselves paled in comparison.

And there was no where to go. The warlock had used his magic to seal Simon into some kind of see-through encasing. In fact, he had used magic to do almost everything. Including inflict Simon's wounds. So much for being in the presence of one of the good guys.

Another hysterical giggle erupted from somewhere within him. _The good guys_. Please. Who was a good guy anymore? Simon used to be a good guy. He remembered it well. He remembered how being a good guy had gotten him nothing, had lost him a girlfriend and had almost lost him his best friend. And now that he had chosen the bad guys? His girlfriend loved him again, and his two best friends trusted him. Now what was that supposed to tell him? He laughed again.

Simon heard the warlock sigh from somewhere. He sighed a lot, Simon noted. Clearly, he wasn't accustomed to inflicting torture. It probably reminded him of the demon that had parented him. It almost made Simon mad that, even in the word Clary would build, this guy -who had just spent days bleeding him dry in a clear cage- would still be free to do as he pleased. Simon hated good guys.

Time went by in an agonized daze. It was how he noticed almost immediately when things began changing. The need to thrash and kick and kill for more substance-riddled blood was giving way to just the need for blood in general. Thirst became more pronounced, his body and veins felt dry and brittle and in desperate need of sustenance. But he didn't care what that blood had in it. He was pretty sure he didn't. Maybe the warlock had, unintentionally no doubt, helped him? Another laugh bubbled up and escaped him, which resulted in yet another sigh.

This time words accompanied it. "We're back to laughing," the warlock said, as if he were speaking to himself. Had he been speaking to himself the whole time? Simon couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything but pain. He still hurt, but not as badly as before. He recognized now that he was propped awkwardly on the edge of his clear encasement, his arms had two long wounds that were caked with dried blood, as was the floor underneath him.

He had bled that much. How did he still have any blood left in him? He heard a groan, a second later realizing it was him. The thirst was worse than anything he had ever experienced. He would rip off anyone's head at this point just for blood, anyone's. Maybe not Clary's or Jonathan's. But that was only because their blood smelled repulsive. If Isabelle were here, no. She would be dead. Simon wouldn't even be able to stop himself for a full two seconds. He needed blood, every nerve was positively suffering, but at least he wasn't in a blackening daze anymore.

"What is the point of this?" Simon croaked.

The warlock's head snapped up, obviously surprised that Simon was aware enough to speak. Simon could see the resolve harden in his expression.

"I need answers," he explained.

"I suggest you break out your next tactic then," Simon replied.

"I think this is working just fine, thank you," Magnus commented. He reached into his rather nice looking jacket pocket and pulled out a vial. Simon sat up straighter immediately, smelling what was in it in an instant. Blood.

Drugged, human blood. So they could start this all over again? As if. Still, the blood smelled intoxicating. He wanted it desperately, and had to work to stifle the urge to throw himself against the barrier and bare his teeth at the warlock. Though his fangs were here to stay as it was.

"Like I want that," Simon lied.

Magnus smirked for only a second. "It's yours, of course. All you have to do is tell me about Clarissa."

"I'm not gonna give up my best friend for blood that you spiked. You think I went out planning to be an addict? I just didn't want to be caught. And clearly you've done me a favor getting me off the stuff. I'm not gonna fight for you to put more of it back in me." His words were calm, despite the clawing he felt on every inch of his skin.

Magnus blinked, and then he nodded. He tossed the drugged vial somewhere that Simon couldn't see and reached in his pocket again, coming out with a new vial. Human. Fresh. Not spiked. Simon swallowed, his mouth ridiculously dry.

"Does this suit you?" The warlock asked sarcastically.

"What exactly do you think I'm gonna tell you?" Simon demanded, his false calm cracking.

"I think you're gonna tell me everything I need to know about Clarissa."

"Seems like you already know enough to me," Simon noted aloud.

"I know what Jocelyn told me when Clary was a child. But back then, she had a chance. I had no reason to believe her angelic side hadn't won out. I know nothing of how the demon blood has affected her as she's grown," Magnus said by way of explanation.

"That why you haven't just tried to kill her already?" Simon asked, monotone. Magnus let out a frustrated sound. "Could I, Simon? Tell me, how close do you believe I might be able to get?" He asked, tired.

Simon smiled wide at him, saying nothing. Magnus thought he had the upper hand here, but the warlock was hopelessly naive. Simon would die before he told him a thing about Clary. And there was no pain to be inflicted that could change that.


	66. Chapter 66

Simon's screams were ingraining themselves in Magnus's mind. He wondered if he would ever be able to forget them. And yet he could not bring himself to use magic to silence them. After all, the vampire boy had the right to scream. The holy water was likely the worst pain he had ever experienced.

Magnus all but begged the vampire to simply tell him what he wanted to know. He had not meant for things to turn out this way. He had never imagined himself being the type to do this to someone else. This was what loving a Nephilim did, he realized. Loving a shadowhunter made one irrational, desperate over affairs that one had no business concerning themselves over. Shadowhunters were law enforcement first and living people second, and loving one meant that one could justify practically anything.

But even realizing this, Magnus could not simply let this go. The screaming did not last all that long though, turning instead into pained groans. Apparently, the energy required to scream had left. Or maybe the vampire had simply regained control of his own vocal cords.

He used the new semi-silence to try again at reason.

"Simon," he started. "I truly apologize for this. But you must understand... please just cooperate."

Simon laughed. Instead of condescending, it just sounded deranged. A touch of disbelief was there too.

"Fuck ... you ... asshole," the vampire boy replied, sneering.

Magnus forced Simon's hand back into the water bucket instantly, though the guilt came over him almost immediately afterwards.

Instead of the agonized sound he was expecting, the only result was another laugh. Though it sounded to Magnus more like a giggle.

"You would think ... you were the one ... with your skin melting ... off," the vampire ground out, teeth clenched into a grotesque smile.

"This was not how I planned to spend my latest evenings," Magnus answered, tired.

Simon collapsed into cackling. "Really! You didn't.. huh? Well. You have... my ... deepest sympathy's."

"My apologies are genuine Simon, though I understand if you have trouble believing that," he told him.

Simon met his eyes. The hatred there was profound, the smile looked painful to maintain. "Oh I believe it." A breath. "Probably makes you... feel like ... daddy dearest."

Magnus flinched, and then was astounded with himself. He had long ago thought himself immune to tauntings regarding his parentage. He could not believe this vampire had gotten a rise out of him at all. Perhaps it was because he was right, where before no one else who had ever insulted him had been.

"You would know about demonic natures," he said, ignoring the comment. "I am doing only what I must."

The smile seemed to be cement on Simon's features. He took a deep breath through his fangs. "She wasn't planning to kill you."

Magnus went rigid, scared that the wrong movement would mean the vampire would stop talking. This was the first time since waking on his rug that Simon had said anything about Clary at all. Magnus silently hoped that he would elaborate, and for a moment he did.

"Your kind are ... supposed to be kept safe. But I ... will be damned," a hysterical, incredulous laugh interrupted his own words. "You're going to ... die. I will ... rip you apart with ... my fangs. demon made or ... not."

Demon made? Was Simon suggesting that Clary intended to protect all demonic creatures? Downworlders even? That would mean that she was marking the Nephilim and the mundanes for death specifically, and not simply just targeting all life. Magnus was unsure if this was better or worse than his previous impression of the dangers involved here. Yet Alexander was in danger either way. Magnus was all too unaffected by the threats of one vampire, and entirely more concerned with the information he had been given within the threat itself. He worked to keep his face impassive, hoping the vampire would give away more. But he was apparently not so lucky as he wished. Simon was silent again.

Magnus slid another vial of blood into his magic encasement. He had only given Simon three, including that one, since he had first bled him. Guilt churned in his stomach once again. He ignored it.

The vampire boy greedily emptied the vial, his new smile tinted in pink. Magnus sigh, and once again forced his hand in the holy water.

He heard the sizzle of flesh, the scream that sounded in the boy's throat but was not granted permission to pass his lips. He sounded like he was choking, choking and burning. Magnus leaned his head against his fridge, dejected.

Clary was going absolutely insane without a communication device. Frequently, she would curse the moment she flushed her cell phone down the toilet just before reminding herself that a cell phone in Idris is useless anyway. Still, being unable to contact Jonathan or Simon was making her feel trapped and impatient. Sure, she could attempt a fire message, but she'd never done it and doubted it would even work. She had spent three miserable days in this small house with the others, unable to accomplish anything towards her goal.

She figured the next step would be getting hands on the mirror, as she knew it was the third object and they had the other two. She knew that for some reason those three objects were essential to Valentine's take-over-the-Conclave-plan. So it was only common sense. Yet, she knew nothing about the mirror. Obviously neither did Jonathan, or he would have told her. And if he didn't know- then did Valentine?

She resisted the urge to throw her fist at Amatis's wall, knowing that too much pressure could fracture something vital and lead to questions. But the frustration was almost too much to bear.

Sure, the past three days hadn't entirely been the very worst experience, which was in itself amazing. She spent the majority of her time talking to Isabelle. They talked about safe topics, namely Simon and Isabelle's brothers. When Max had come up, Clary had asked why he hadn't come to see them, despite being unsure why she even cared. Isabelle had explained that when the trial was announced, she and Alec had agreed that Max be kept as far from it as possible. Their relatives had taken the younger boy on a cruise, about which Izzy pretended to be seething jealous, but she really wasn't.

Clary found herself somehow enjoying Isabelle's company. The girl was intelligent, had attitude. Clary understood why the old Simon had fallen for her so easily. She was even beginning to understand why the new Simon refused to let her go. This came with its whole set of problems of course. Once, while Isabelle was - astoundingly - braiding Clary's hair, Clary had zoned out, her mind furiously trying to come up with a way to save the dark haired girl. For Simon, she had told herself. But admittedly, perhaps in part for herself. Isabelle had apparently called Clary's name twice before she came rushing back to her current surroundings, a mirror held behind her head to display Izzy's work. She had apologized, claimed she was stressed about being stuck here and what they had gone through upon arrival. She had also complimented Izzy on the hair due.

Being here was not good, it was messing with her mind. Unable to speak to her true companions, she had somehow allowed the Lightwood girl in. Which lead to the question of whether or not she was beginning to weaken. After all, one had to be weak to even consider attempting to sway a firm member of Team Good Guys onto her side because they had suddenly become friends. Or was it suddenly? Clary could not even be entirely sure anymore that her friendship with Izzy had not been silently developing underneath her nose. It was too much to think about.

She simply had to get out of this house. A day later, she got her wish. The Penhallows had arrived, and their home was much more equipped for guests. Upon leaving though, she had stopped - earning strange glances from the others. Izzy had raised her eyebrows in question just before Clary turned to face Amatis in the doorway.

"I know we aren't really um ... family," she pretended to be flustered, "but I figured, if I was welcome of course, that I could come visit you here sometimes. Spend a night here and there depending on how long the er trial is delayed. Luke was my only um father figure you know? And you make me feel like uh..." She trailed off, although she had said everything she'd meant to say.

Amatis's eyes had gone soft about half way through her speech. "Of course, Clary," she had proclaimed. And that was that, Clary had an alibi if need be, a place to escape the eyes of Jace, Alec, and even Isabelle if necessary. Izzy had offered her a warm smile after the door had closed. Alec and Jace, though, made no comment.

Isabelle thought that the Penhallow's was spectacular, she had always thought so. Even in her dull memories. Her friend Aline had squealed upon seeing her, launching herself into Isabelle's arms before pulling back sheepishly and welcoming the others with less bluster. Her friends gaze had tripped up when her eyes rested on Clary though. They widened slightly, before the cool-and-collected expression slid right into place.

"You must be Clary Morgenstern."

"Fray," Clary had quickly corrected.

Isabelle had attempted to explain to Aline through eye contact that it was just better to accept and move on. It seemed to work as Aline had shrugged happily and said, "Nice to meet you then."

Isabelle smiled.

"Where is everyone?" Alec asked from next to the doorway.

Aline smiled, beckoning the lot of them into the room just behind her.

An expansive yet cozy living room came into sight before them, and Isabelle sigh with content. Oh yes, she had missed being in Idris. She chanced a glance towards Clary, whose eyes had gone as wide as saucers. But when Isabelle looked in the same direction, she realized that Clary was not admiring the room around them, but a boy seated on one of the couches. Isabelle had bit her lip to hide her smirk. He looked entirely different, wholey grown, and had perhaps darker hair. If she had seen him in public, she would not have been able to point him out as Aline's long lost cousin. But really, who else could he be?

As if sensing Clary's gaze, Sebastian Verlac looked up and met her eyes. He put down whatever he had been reading and paid no attention to Isabelle or any of the other family in the room, new arrivals or otherwise. His entire gaze was fixated on Clary.

Isabelle vaguely wondered if this was what love at first sight looked like. If she hadn't seen the looks on Clary and Sebastian's faces in this moment with her own eyes, she would have continued doubting such a concept all her hopefully-long life.

Slowly, Sebastian stood up and walked to where Clary was standing - gaping at him.

"Sebastian Verlac," he told her, lifting her hand to kiss it.

Somehow cleared their throat. Jace, Isabelle knew without looking. She cut a glance at her blonde brother from the corner of her eye, trying to gouge what he was feeling. But his face was like stone. Neither Clary, Sebastian, nor anyone else had moved since Sebastian had released Clary's hand.

"Clary Fray." By the look on her face, Isabelle would have assumed that any words would come out as a squeak. It was anything but. Her voice was borderline sensual despite the fact that she had only uttered her name.

Someone else cleared their throat. Alec. Isabelle shot him a glare.

"Anyone want pie?" Aline asked into the awkward silence.

And it was as if a switch had flipped. Everyone in the room made a prompt bee-line for the kitchen. Including, Isabelle would be later ashamed to admit, herself.

She noticed just before fixing her eyes on pie that neither Clary nor Sebastian had taken a single step.


	67. Chapter 67

Simon opened his eyes, having been woken by the pain that would no longer be ignored. That was when the smell of blood hit him. He looked at the floor to his left, and discovered it. Three full bags of blood arranged one on top of the other, and - he realized - not out of his reach. He barely even remembered popping them open, but suddenly they were all completely emptied. He watched in relief as the wasted skin of his hands started to - ridiculously slowly - patch itself back together. The pain that seemed to be in every last dried up nerve ending faded to a tolerable ache. His fangs were still out, and he was still hungry, of course, but he no longer felt as though he were dying.

Simon vaguely wondered if maybe this was a dream, his brain had had enough pain and was now giving him this small delusion of peace before he'd wake up with melted hands and bloodless veins screaming in pain at him.

But no. If that were true Simon imagined that his delusion would allow him outside the invisible cage, and it certainly would not subject him to seeing the Warlock's face. Real it was then, he decided, wondering if that better or worse.

"Feeling better?" Magnus asked from his place by the fridge.

"Why?" Simon croaked back. "Was this just fattening me up for round fifteen?"

The warlock rolled his eyes. "I think we're about done here."

"Ah come on," laughed Simon. He masked his relief very carefully. "We haven't even gotten started."

He doubted that the Warlock even understood how little he actually knew. He knew that Clary and Jonathan were going to use their father to take over the planet and hand it all over to demons and demon-kind. But that information wouldn't exactly do any good to know. There was no way to stop them. They were both immortal, practically super-powered creatures of the night. But Magnus, Simon realized, nor anyone besides the demonic twins and Simon himself even knew how invulnerable they were. Well, for sure that is. And Simon suddenly realized that yes, he had vital information. He knew the extent of their powers and that they could not be killed by anything of this earth. Magnus had tortured him on a hunch. _What a standup guy_, he thought bitterly.

"If you hadn't noticed, this wasn't exactly my most well-thought-out plan if I dare to admit. Though, I did underestimate the lengths you would go to for Clary," Magnus replied, making no move to release him as he hinted he would.

Simon said nothing, this was clearly just a new angle.

"What I don't believe you understand is that, even if this ends well for you Simon, it still won't end well. Not really."

He shouldn't. Simon knew he shouldn't play along, it was pointless. The words left his mouth anyway. "And what do you mean by that, oh wise one?"

"What I mean is that you have eternity. In fifty years, maybe seventy at most, the only one who will be left with this _victory _will be you," the warlock told him.

Simon smiled, and it wasn't a fake one this time. It wasn't meant to unnerve or in any other way strategic. It was Simon's genuine reaction. "Okay," he replied, still smiling.

Magnus blinked at him. "And that, Simon Lewis, is why you are still here."

The smile slipped some. "I don't follow."

"You've been bled and burned and are willing to die for this girl, which leads me to believe you love her in whatever way. And yet, when I even suggest that her chances of life are anything less than one hundred percent, you don't even flinch. You believe her invulnerable. What will it take to get you to realize she isn't? That you are doing this for nothing?"

Again, Simon's lips moved almost of their own accord. He simply couldn't resist messing with the man who had tortured him for days. "Is that why you're doing this too then? You say this is all worthless because Clary will die. Pretty sure Alec's gonna die too. Probably a lot sooner if I'm betting on it."

He watched in smug satisfaction as Magnus's back straightened some. "Yes well, I am not planning to paint the streets with blood for Alexander."

Simon raised his eyebrow. "Paint the streets in blood huh?"

Magnus watched him for a long time, long enough that Simon started to feel awkward. He hadn't felt awkward since before he'd been turned. But the way Magnus's gaze bored into him was uncomfortable, and the long forgotten discomfort was brought to the surface. Finally, the Warlock spoke, though it was barely a whisper. He was likely speaking to himself. "Unless she is."

"Come again?"

"Invulnerable. You act as though Clary is invulnerable because you think she is. You're not worried about eternity without her because she's as immortal as you or me."

Simon's jaw tightened, his smile was long forgotten. He knew this changed nothing, and yet at the same time he felt as though he'd lost something.

"Simon, you should know as well as I do that immortality does not equal invulnerability. Everything and everyone can die."

Let him believe that, Simon thought. He refused to show even another flicker of emotion.

"Though your behavior does lead me to believe that it is probably very difficult. Next to impossible even," the warlock continued, practically speculating out loud now. Simon had wanted to kill him before, now he needed to. Magnus Bane absolutely had to die before he got anywhere near Simon's favorite twins. But he had no way of warning them, no way of doing anything. No one even knew he was here.

It was more important than ever that Clary and Jonathan made their first move, whatever that was, and finally came to find him. He didn't blame Clary, she was stuck in the shadowhunter capital of the world. But where the hell was Jonathan?

Magnus stood up suddenly, pulling back Simon's glare to him. He left the room for a few moments and then returned. Simon didn't really understand the magic he did, but he felt it as soon as the invisible cage lifted from around him. He tried to move immediately, but found that he was immobile. Magnus looked at him sadly.

"I truly am sorry for what's happened to you in your life, Simon Lewis. And you may choose not to believe this, but I hope for the best for you."

Simon scoffed at him. About fifteen minutes later, two Nephilim showed. One was covered in dark runes, hair an ashy blonde. The other at his side looked like a younger version of Clary's dead adoptive father. Magnus turned to them, apparently trying to look professional in the mess-of-color, wrinkled outfit he'd been wearing since he kidnapped Simon from the street.

"Gentlemen. This is the vampire. I assure you he has vital information on Valentine Morgenstern's location. I have been unable to gather anything from him so far, and I figured well this is more your job. Wouldn't you agree?"

The two Nephilim only grunted, and hauled Simon into an awkward stand. He knew Magnus understood the threat in his eyes as he passed him and was escorted out of the dreadful apartment.

Seeing Clary's face made how annoying Sebastian Morgenstern's week was completely worth it. He had to hand it to her though, she recovered well, allowing the love-sick part of things to become the focus of her expression. For a moment he had worried that she might give away that they already knew each other - which would be impossible - but then he had seen the Lightwood girl flicking her entertained gaze between the two of them, and he knew that how this would be perceived was most assuredly to their advantage. He couldn't help standing up and gravitating towards her, the pull had been magnetic. It always had been, and it had been a while since he'd gotten the pleasure of laying his eyes on her. He had seen the amusement flash in her eyes when he'd given her his new name, and he would have given anything to have a snapshot of that moment. A few people, he didn't see who, cleared their throats but were wholly ignored.

A call for pie by Aline - he was really starting to appreciate how naive that girl was - ushered everyone out of the room besides them. And suddenly she was pulling him into the hallway she'd come from, the opposite direction from the kitchen everyone else had gone. It took her all of half a minute to locate a closet and forcefully toss him into it, and then everything melted away because her lips were on his.

They had to keep quiet, which proved to be more difficult than anticipated. But all that really mattered was the sensation of her body on his. Clothes dropped to the floor and heated skin met heated skin and for the first time in much, much too long she was all his. He tasted blood, and realized she had probably bit her bottom lip too hard in an attempt to keep silent. If anything, it only made this all the more satisfying. Her legs were hooked around his hips and her breath came out in pants that always cut off before they became moans and his fists tangled in her hair and everything was just as he'd always like it to be.

It was over much too soon. There were other people in this house, people who thought they had just met. People who would not wait long to come looking for them. He imagined for a moment what it would be like if one of those unsuspecting people opened the door to find them fucking in a closet. Two people who had supposedly just met. It made him put his pants back on a little quicker. Then the blissful silence came to an end.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Clary whispered at him.

"I didn't have any way of telling you I was coming. But really, what else did you expect?" He asked. It wasn't like she didn't know he would be sent after the mirror.

"You could have chosen any time to worn me," she pointed out quietly. "I've been at my _aunt's _house all week."

He smiled at that. "Alright fine," he relented. "I wanted to surprise you. It's not so easy a thing to accomplish you know."

He heard the answering smile in her voice. "Yeah yeah. So do you have any idea where to look?"

His smile slipped. Back to business. "Nope. I'm supposed to hang around and _gather information_, whatever that's supposed to accomplish. I assume we will have some time to just hang out here."

"I'm sure we will find a lead soon enough. A lot more privacy when you have an entire city to roam instead of just an institute," she said, he thought she sounded happy about that and his smile returned.

"We gotta get back out there. Ten minutes is a little long for a pie break," he told her reluctantly.

She stepped out of the closet first, off in search of a ladies room. He left the closet moments later on his way back to the living room. People were starting to trickle back in when he entered, crumbs left on lips, and half eaten pies on plates in hand. His _family _smiled at him but otherwise continued with their conversations. He picked up the magazine he'd been reading and stared at it until Clary came back from the bathroom. Everyone watched out of the corners of their eyes as she went and plopped down right next to him.

They shared a smile and started talking about who they supposedly were. She told him about how she'd been raised by a single mom, how she didn't find out about the shadow world until what could be considered recently in comparison to her age. He told her his entire cover story. Everyone sneaked glances but there was no suspicion. Sebastian's half smile never left his face, and neither did Clary's.


	68. Chapter 68

"Don't be such a sourpuss," Isabelle said as she licked some cream off her fingers.

Jace glared at her and shoved a huge bite of pie into his mouth. She fake pouted at him, then giggled, which was weird for Isabelle but Jace brushed it off. _Let her be happy for once_, he thought, only wishing she would just leave him alone with his pie. He was not having a great day at the moment, because even though no one knew it, he was humiliated. He had been a complete idiot, delusional even. When he had found out Clary was his sister, that should have been the end of it, but it wasn't. Jace hadn't let her go, had even convinced himself that she might be suffering in the same way he was, that in some ridiculous way the two of them might have been able to _work around _the fact that we were siblings. And five minutes ago, that fantasy had all come crashing down at once.

Clary had looked at Verlac like he walked on the sun. They had practically undressed each other with their eyes right in front of everyone, because Clary was over Jace. He and her had shared moments, but that was before she knew, and since then nothing. And even back then, Jace couldn't remember if she had ever looked at him with that much interest. It was humiliating.

Alec had been right in the beginning, encouraging him to not get too attached to her. And maybe he had selfish motivations for that, but in the end it turned out to be sound advice, because if Jace had just listened, he doubted he would be feeling like this. He turned to Alec, thinking he would be happy to hear that he could say _I told you, so_ even if he wouldn't do it, and discovered that he was nowhere in sight. Everyone else surrounded the pie, chatting and eating and laughing. But no Alec. Hadn't he followed Jace into the kitchen?

Alec was in horrified disbelief. He was naturally suspicious of everything Clary did, because he was the only one in the house - or the country - that had any idea how dangerous she was. Or he thought he had been, until he'd seen what he'd just seen. Everyone had been focused on their food, and Jace so focused on his own thoughts, that it had been easy to pause and turn back around. But by the time Alec had re-entered the living room, Clary and Verlac were gone.

He'd been searching the house when he'd heard a door open, and he'd only heard it because he was listening for it. He ducked behind the nearest wall and peaked towards the noise carefully, just in time to see Clary coming out of a closet.

It struck him immediately how disheveled she looked. Her hair, which had been tied up since they'd entered the Penhallows, was now flowing freely past her shoulders, and was tangled. Her gear, well her mother's gear that had apparently fit her, seemed to have been tossed on. Her lip was bloody, the blood a glossy red that seemed to be darker than normal blood.

And he understood her appearance a second later when Clary disappeared further into the house and Verlac stepped out of the closet. He was better put-together, Alec gave him that. But he wasn't an idiot. And while it was none of his business who anyone slept with, the fact that Clary was no ordinary girl made it his business. He knew a great deal about her, and he knew she wasn't the type. She was meticulous, careful, strategic. So either she was suddenly someone completely new, or she hadn't just met Verlac. And if she hadn't just met him, the Angel knew how long they'd been working together.

Alec was willing to bet that if Clary had sex with Verlac, she trusted him. And it was beginning to feel naive to think that anyone she trusted, including Simon Lewis, would be ignorant to what she was. Which begged the question of how many more people she, or her father, had working for them, and how many of them were already here in Alicante.

Magnus words of warning came back to Alec, but for the first time he made the conscious decision to ignore them. This changed too much, there was no more time to wait and watch. Clary was obviously a lot more comfortable here than she was playing at, which meant she was probably here for something other than a trial. He couldn't afford any more lies, at least not to Jace and Isabelle. He snuck back into the kitchen, hoping he was about to make the right choice.

Jace had just began looking around for his parabatai when he spotted him attempting to sneak back into the kitchen unnoticed. When they locked eyes, he communicated that he failed. Alec was by his side in a heartbeat, no one had yet caught on to his anxiety besides Jace.

"We need to talk," Alec told him quietly. "Follow me outside in three minutes."

Jace watched as the eldest Lightwood discreetly left the room again. No one gave him a passing glance. Jace followed instructions, and in three minutes was stepping into the street outside of the house. He saw Alec standing at the end of the block, and watched as he went around a corner. Jace quickly jogged over to him. Before he had realized, they were four blocks away from the Penhallows. Alec stood in a small alley between two nice homes, looking nervous.

"Wanna fill me in now?" Jace demanded when he was close enough.

"I don't really know where to start," his parabatai admitted. "I don't think you're gonna take this well."

"Just spit it out Alec."

"I've been lying to you," his other half blurted.

Jace blinked. "About?"

There was a long moment of silence, and that was when it hit Jace how serious this must be. Alec was sweating bullets, and Alec wasn't one to be so nervous. But right now he looked like half the warrior Jace knew he was.

Alec swallowed. "Clary."

Jace raised his eyebrows, a silent _go on._

"She's not who you- she's not who we all thought she was."

Jace rolled his eyes, his shoulders sagging some in relief. "Please. You were right alright? Is that what you wanted to hear from me? If I had just listened to you in the beginning I wouldn't be ... things wouldn't be like this for me. I get it okay?"

"This isn't about your feelings for her," Alec suddenly snapped. "This isn't about my petty jealousy either. Not like how it was. I'm trying to tell you that the girl that I was jealous of- she's not real Jace."

"I don't follow," he admitted, at a loss.

Alec let out a frustrated sigh before he spoke again, and Jace thought he must have heard incorrectly. "She's basically a demon."

"I'm sorry," Jace said slowly. "Would you care to repeat that I don't think I -"

Alec cut him off, his voice shaking now. "I mean it Jace! She has demon blood in her veins. And it isn't just about that, if it were we wouldn't be having this conversation. Because ... because well I think you might too. But it's different with her, she let it win."

"Alright, you know what? Let's just take a step back here. You're talking nonsense. Start from the beginning and maybe I can make some sense of what you're saying right now."

Alec took a long deep breath, and launched into a story Jace wished sounded a lot crazier than it did. "Magnus met Clary and her mom when Clary was like two or something. Because Jocelyn didn't want Clary to be able to see the shadow world, wanted to give her a chance at -"

"I know that already," Jace reminded him.

"Don't interrupt!" Alec demanded, stressed. "A chance. Not just at being normal like we thought, but at being good. Jocelyn was afraid that if Clary knew who she was and what she was she would go dark. Magnus said that Jocelyn knew what Valentine did to her. He experimented with demon blood Jace. On both his children. I don't really understand your part of things, Magnus didn't get all the information because Jocelyn had been sure you were dead. But you're not, and it just must have been different or something because you're not like her Jace. Everything Jocelyn did and Clary went dark anyway. She's a demonic- she's something and whatever she is she embraced it. She's been a plant this whole time. The Clary we met in that club, she's not real. Nothing about that girl is real."

For several minutes, all that passed between the two boys in the alleyway was the sound of their respective breathing. Jace stared at Alec, a million emotions flickering within him, and no doubt across his face as well. He wanted to shout at Alec, tell him this was all insane, that he didn't believe him. That he was wrong. But he could feel it, that Alec was telling the truth. There was no reason Jace could think of, none at all, that would make a lie like that made sense. It was true, it had to be. Which meant ... he couldn't think of it.

He couldn't speak. He could only stand there, staring into his parabatai's blue eyes, seeing nothing. The question found its way to his lips almost of its own accord.

"Why didn't Magnus say something sooner. Or ... or how long have you known?" He resented how quiet and broken his own voice sounded.

"I've only known since a couple days before we got to Idris. That's when Magnus told me. He didn't tell me sooner because he thought- well Clary is a very good actress. Jocelyn had stressed so much that Clary could be perfectly normal. That the part of her that was Nephilim could win. He didn't know until she ... that night. The night Valentine got away and Jocelyn died. Do you remember how Izzy put Clary to sleep with that rune and left her with Magnus?"

Numbly, Jace nodded.

"Well she didn't. Go to sleep, I mean. Magnus said she- she denied the rune. She woke up almost right after we left and got away from Magnus. She came back to the institute before us and tried to play it off for him but he didn't believe it. He thinks ... he's pretty damn sure that Clary killed her mom Jace. And she wears this glamour for her eyes. It took Magnus forever to be able to see through it, he only could after she came back, but behind the bright green her eyes are black man. All black, maybe no pupil. Magnus told me at the next safe chance. She let her demonic side take over and the color just ... left I guess. Look there's a lot more I could tell you, but the point is that I'm telling you the truth now."

"The next safe chance," Jace said slowly.

"What?"

"You said Magnus told you at the next safe chance. Safe?" Jace asked.

"Clary is ... Clary is dangerous. The Angel only knows the extent of her extra abilities. Magnus didn't want to risk anything until we knew more and ... I trusted that. But now we're running out of time."

Jace took a deep breath, finally coming out of his shock at the subtle call for action. "Running out of time why?"

"Because we might be here for the trial. But I don't think Clary is anymore. She- I saw her with, uh, Sebastian. I think he's working for her. Once I knew that I was pretty sure that Simon is too, though he's thankfully not a factor here."

"Why do you think Verlac is working with her?" Asked Jace. "We just watched them meet."

"You're forgetting she's a plant Jace. They knew each other, they had to of. You don't meet someone and then hook up with them five seconds later. At least not if you're a calculating demon chick."

"Wait back up. You saw them hook up? When? What?" Jace pushed all his jealousy down and took a breath. He reminded himself that Clary wasn't really Clary. That was not the girl he thought he loved, and he couldn't love someone who didn't exist anymore.

The Clary he loved was gone now. The Clary who was his demon sister was the real thing. And he would not waste time wanting her, risk becoming like her. The Angel knew what affect the blood in his veins was having, and he'd be damned if he let himself become something he spent his entire ridding the world of.

"Look, it doesn't matter. What matters right now is finding out what Clary really came here for. And also well ... Isabelle."


	69. Chapter 69

"Please have a seat," said the short, balding man in the chair in front a plain table. Simon Lewis had already been interrogated for weeks, and the downgrade in scenery here was not appreciated in the slightest. Considering that he couldn't imagine these people bleeding him dry, unlike a certain warlock, he did as he was told and took the uncomfortable chair across from the man.

"I gotta say," began Simon, "Idris seems a bit overrated from where I'm sitting."

The comment seemed to have no effect.

"According to the warlock that turned you into us, you supposedly have information on the whereabouts of Valentine Morgenstern. Do you deny this?" Asked the man calmly.

"Yep."

"I figured you might say as much. After all, the warlock did not tell us how such a vampire would find himself in Morgenstern's employment. He may have handed you over, likely to divert suspicion from himself, but he incriminated you as little as possible while doing so."

Simon stared, suddenly realizing that this man was right. Magnus could have laid it all out for them, the facts. But he did not actually want or expect Simon to tell the Clave anything, because of Alec. The only person Magnus was looking out for was Alec, and too much information could make Alec look very, very bad.

"What we then had to learn for ourselves," continued the man, "is that you have a connection to Valentine only through the Nephilim of the New York Institute. What I am telling you, Mr. Lewis, is that there is no point in lying, because we already know everything. You are a recently turned vampire friend of Clarissa Morgenstern's. You have a romantic relationship with Isabelle Lightwood, daughter of Valentine's lover and coconspirator Maryse Lightwood. You are quite acquainted with Jonathan Morgenstern, Valentine's son."

Simon almost lost his composure as the last fact was rattled off, before he realized that this man was referring to Jace. No one knew a thing about Jonathan. Simon told himself to get a grip.

"Your connections to Valentine are many in number, Mr. Lewis. Of course you know where he is."

The man paused and sighed before continuing. "But that's not what we want from you. We could not get to Valentine, even if we had the location of his hideout. What we can do, is convict his conspirators."

Simon's gut suddenly clenched up. _Oh_, he thought. This is why he was here. The Nephilim don't come running when downworlders report the crimes of other downworlders. And how often did that even happen anyway? Downworld minded its own business, he knew that much at least. If these Nephilim really wanted information from him, they would have took a similar approach to Magnus's. They would have taken him to some warehouse, probably in lower Manhattan or something, and beat him until he either talked or died. That was what these people did to _scum _who had information on their worst criminal. They didn't take them across the world, into the heart of shadowhunter country, to sit down and talk nice. This was not an interrogation, it was a buttering session. They were trying to convince him that he would be fine as long as he cooperated.

"We want to prevent them from aiding him any further. Maryse is already to stand trial," explained the man. "We have all the proof we need when it comes to her. What we would like, what you could help us with, is adding her children as well as Valentine's children to the list. Convict them all, put them all away. All we would need to do this is a small confession from you. You would receive immunity of course, be free to live out your dreadful eternity in peace. The Clave would even offer you protection until such a time comes that we are able to actually apprehend Valentine."

The man seemed to be finished, he looked at Simon expectantly. Almost hungrily. Simon was floored, he couldn't understand how stupid one had to be to believe it would be this easy. The laugh erupted out of him, he took a moment to calm himself down after his fit of giggles, and then he stared at the man with a huge smile on his face, unable to suppress it.

"You sir," he told him at last, "are an idiot."

The balding man scowled. "And how scum like you could be blessed to walk in the sun I have no idea. Remember this, Mr. Lewis, we gave you the opportunity to help us peacefully. Any violence that follows now is only a fault of your own."

He looked over Simon's shoulder at someone, before muttering, "Take him away."

Isabelle plopped down on the couch right next to Clary and Sebastian, who immediately ceased their introductory-type conversation to turn and stare at her. Izzy smiled at Clary like a coconspirator.

"Oh please, don't let me interrupt," she insisted. She was pleased when Clary covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk.

"Isabelle," said Sebastian easily. "It's been so long it's a miracle I even remember you."

Isabelle smiled wider. "I gotta be honest, I don't remember you really. Maybe vaguely," she tacked on the last bit just to make him feel better.

His smile didn't slip at all. "Sorry we had to get reacquainted through such unpleasant circumstances."

Izzy's smile became tighter, as it always did at any mention of her mother or Valentine. "Yeah, but you two seem to be hitting it off."

Clary blushed. "Sebastian was just telling me how long it's been since he's seen Idris. I would show him around but obviously I've never been here."

"You two want a tour?" Isabelle asked, not bothering to mask her eagerness. Any distraction at all these days was welcome.

They both shared a look and then nodded at her.

When Jace and Alec returned to the Penhallows, Isabelle was gone. Aline told them that she'd gone off to give Clary and Sebastian a tour of Idris, and the two parabatai allowed her to babble a bit about what a courteous thing that was before Jace cut her off.

"Did any of them say when they'd be back?"

Aline narrowed her eyes at them, ever so slightly cocking her head to the left. "No. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all," Alec interjected. "We just would have liked to go with them is all. It's been a long time since we've seen Idris either."

Aline smiled again, this time like she found something funny. "Oh well, between you and me I think Isabelle's more of a chauffeur in this instance. Clary and Sebastian seem- er, friendly."

Jace rolled his eyes before resting them back on Aline. She was pretty, attractive even. Why couldn't Jace have been attracted to her? Or someone like her? He shook off his train of thought and shared a glance with Alec. His parabatai seemed to be barely masking his worry. They needed to get to Isabelle and tell her the truth as soon as possible, every minute she was left ignorant was another minute she could be hurt. And now Clary and her henchman had whisked her off through Idris. Which was huge, who knew where they were by now. Jace could see that Alec was kicking himself for not telling her sooner.

"Thank Aline," Jace mumbled, turning Alec away from her and back out the door.

Simon was somewhere dark and dank. A cell. Not deep, though. In fact if he didn't know better he'd say that the surface was only ten or so feet above him. Why they hadn't stuffed him as close to hell as possible, Simon had no idea.

"They don't want to have to go trudging through the catacombs every time they wish to intimidate you again," said a voice, answering the question Simon was one hundred percent certain he had not asked aloud.

"Who's there?" Simon demanded.

"No need to fear, Daylighter. It seems we have adjoining cells," the voice answered.

"Who are you?" Asked Simon. "How do you know that I ..." He didn't know how to finish his question. The man had called him Daylighter. He must know that he was a vampire capable of walking in the sun then, but how could he have known that?

"You can call me Sam. And I know who you are, Simon Lewis, and how you have been blessed because well... the guards talk, even down here," the man who called himself Sam answered.

Simon sat himself down on the miserable excuse for a _cot _in the corner. He would never do what these people asked of him, and there was nothing they could do to force him. May as well get comfortable.

"What're you in for?" He decided to ask Sam.

"Nothing you need worry about. What matters is what you are _in for_. They would like you to betray your friends, correct?" was the response.

"Sorta," he allowed. "I'm not going to do it though, obviously."

"Then it seems you and I will have plenty of time to get reacquainted. Until such a time that you starve and become desolate of course," said Sam, not too cheerily.

"Starve?" Asked Simon, not liking where this was obviously heading.

"Mr Lewis, I do hope you were quite full of blood before you came here, because you will not be seeing another drop it for, if you stay true to your claims of course, a long while."

Simon laughed. "That's it? That's what they're gonna do? They think I'm gonna start talking just because I'm hungry?" He asked incredulously. "Idiots."

"The likes of the Lightwood clan are worth it then?" Asked Sam.

Simon scoffed, then paused for a minute. "One of them, maybe. I'm more of a Morgenstern type of guy myself."

If anyone was listening, or if Sam was planning to betray him, they would be lead to believe Simon was referring to Valentine. But for some reason, Simon didn't think he was being listened in on. He didn't think the guy in the dark cell next to him had any plans to sell out Simon's every word either. The guy sounded downright empty, as if he'd accepted that he would die down here a long time ago, and Simon couldn't say he thought differently. There was no reason to mince his words down here.

"It's true then, you work for Valentine?" His voice was still blank, but now there was just the slightest edge of wariness.

"No," Simon decided to say. "Not exactly. For now, maybe."

"Clarissa then."

Simon paused. "What do you know about Clary?"

"I know there is more to her that meets the eye. I would say she's quite dangerous, and just as adept as her father at ensnaring others in webs," Sam replied.

"I'm not in a web," Simon snapped. "Clary's my best friend. I'm not some puppet, and I would never sell her out for blood."

"I see. Your affection for her runs deep. I don't doubt you've sacrificed much for her," Sam answered, and that was the last he spoke.

No matter how much Simon prodded, tried to get him to talk about himself, it didn't work. They lapsed into a silence that would last hours perhaps days on end. Simon was fine with that, there was nothing this random stranger could say that was important anyway.


	70. Chapter 70

Sebastian walked along silently, listening to the dark haired shadowhunter girl point out places and things he already knew about. They walked past the houses and landmarks of Alicante, allowing Isabelle to give them their fill of the city. But Sebastian wasn't really paying attention to her, his eyes were for Clary. He watched her walk with her facial features drawn in that way that assured him she was attempting to figure something out. She stared directly at Isabelle's back as they went along, looking as though she were attempting to solve complicated riddles in her head. Sebastian knew well what she was doing. She was trying to think of a way that she could keep Isabelle, the girl who had somehow - through ways he couldn't imagine - become Clary's friend. Clary wanted the shadowhunter on their side.

He wished he could tell her that it wouldn't work. He knew it wouldn't, it was impossible. While it was true that Isabelle clearly liked Clary, she only liked this version of her. If she had any idea of the Clary beneath the surface, she would attempt to kill her. The same was sure to be true for Simon as well.

Whereas, on the other side of things stood Isabelle's brothers, a brother figure, her entire family. Plus the set of beliefs that had been ingrained into her since birth. Isabelle Lightwood, in the end, would be loyal to her family and her oath. Not to mention the fact that her only path to immortality was vampirism, which she would never accept.

Clary had to know this, she was not the type to deny basic fact. She had to see that Isabelle would never be a friend to the true her, to any of them. It was to be a world for the demons, and an empire for demonic creation. The whole earth was to be a wasteland in which true freedom reigned. Isabelle Lightwood would never willingly stand for that. And therefore her friendship with Clary was useless.

But still Clary walked along, watching Isabelle and wearing her mask of frustrated thought, the dark haired object of her difficulty none the wiser. Or she had, until suddenly she spoke.

"What about the rest of the country? Don't some families have manors out there around the city," she asked, interrupting something Isabelle had been saying.

The shadowhunter turned to look at them. "What?"

"Like, outside of Alicante. Idris. What is it like outside the towers?" asked Clary.

Isabelle gave her a quizzical look. "There's a lot of green, woodsy area around the city, though I've never been very far into it. On the other side of the country from here there's a lake. Lake Lynn. But nobody really visits that. Why?"

"Don't certain families have manor houses out there? Valentine had one ... my mom thought Jace died there. And didn't Jace grow up in Wayland manner?" Clary said.

Sebastian tried to catch Clary's eye. What was she doing? They shouldn't be going anywhere near there, Lilith only knew where their father was.

Isabelle was gaping at Clary now. "You want to leave the city and go see where Jace grew up? Where he was supposed to have died? That's a little morbid Clary."

"I just wanted to see ... never mind. You're right I ... it was stupid," Clary said, only Sebastian could tell it was bait.

"No no. I uh ... I think we can go. Yeah, you know what? Let's go. We can check out the demon towers too."

Isabelle turned from them and began her trek to the outskirts of the city. Sebastian finally caught Clary's eye, and the look she gave him said _I know what I'm doing_. So he remained quiet and walked along.

When they came up on the demon towers, Sebastian thoughts turned to what his father would need him to do. These towers would have to come down in order for Valentine to properly threaten the Clave, and the only way to do that was with Sebastian's - or Clary's - own blood. He pictured himself climbing up one of the towers and slicing open his palm.

The Nephilim at the gates gave them strange looks as they approached, no- they were only looking at Clary. Of course everyone knew she was Valentine's daughter by now. Valentine's children would be the most common Clave gossip.

When Isabelle requested that they leave for the day, the guards were not uncooperative. They said some garbage about how, as long as they remained welcome, any shadowhunter was free to come and go from Alicante as they pleased. They were curious though, but none of them offered any explanation. They only told the guards that they would be back later on.

They had made it about five feet out, the wards closing behind them, when the two Nephilim resumed their idle chatter. And Clary, Sebastian, and Isabelle would have walked into the greenery easily, if one of the guards hadn't asked his companion, "How long do you think they'll keep that vampire boy here?"

Isabelle didn't have a reaction, her hearing was normal and wouldn't have picked up on the question from this distance, but Clary and Sebastian stopped clean in their tracks. There was only one way the Clave would bring a lone vampire into the Glass City, and that was if he had something to do with their father.

It took Isabelle a moment to realize what happened, and by the time she turned around the siblings had doubled back towards the guards. Whatever Clary's day plan had been, it was now put on hold. Sebastian made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Izzy chased after them immediately, all three back within Alicante's wards before they had fully shut.

The guard's eyes landed back on the trio, taken aback and suspicious of their immediate return. Sebastian watched as they finally noticed the looks on his and Clary's faces. Even Isabelle seemed to notice, because Sebastian could feel her worried side stare.

"What the hell did you say?" Clary demanded venomously of the guard who'd spoken.

"Are you kids leaving or not?" barked his friend.

"What the hell did you say about having a vampire in Alicante? Tell me what you know about him!" Clary bit back.

"How did you- Never mind. Mind your own business little girl."

Clary was practically baring her teeth now, and Sebastian knew he had to step in. Clary was far more emotional when it came to Simon then he was, having been his best friend for longer.

"Look," he cut in. "We heard what you said about having a vampire here. We just want to know where he is, we think he might be our friend."

The one they'd originally asked cracked a side smile that was not humorous, and stared straight at Clary as he answered. "I'm sure he was your friend. You're Valentine's kid aren't you?"

"I'm not associated with that man. Tell me about the vampire ..." Clary seemed to break down at just the right time, tears suddenly filling her eyes to the brim and spilling over. Her voice cracked on the word, "Please."

The Nephilim's faces changed almost comically. They both exchanged suddenly uncomfortable glances, and looked at Clary apprehensively now as if her tears were somehow contagious. Sebastian resisted the urge to applaud his sister's performance. Isabelle stood silently at his side, her face an expression of dawning realization and then anger. After all, who else would Clary cry about besides Simon?

"Look," said one of the guards steadily. "We don't know much about him really. Some connection to Valentine maybe. They brought him here after some warlock contacted, days ago maybe."

The other continued. "Yeah, the Consul seems to have business with him. I saw him when they portalled here. Eighteen, maybe nineteen, brown hair. They said he could walk in the sun."

Clary's tears were still freshly running down her face, but her anger was starting to seep through the cracks. Sebastian grabbed her and pulled her into his arms to hide her face.

"I don't think we feel like seeing the sights anymore, obviously," he said briskly, and then mouthed a thank you at the guards before gesturing that Isabelle follow them.

"Couldn't have had very much training that one," one of the guards whispered to the other as they walked away. "Not even shadowhunter girls should cry like that."

He felt Clary's shoulders tighten with rage, and walked her along faster.

"How did you guys know?" Isabelle demanded when they were far enough back into the city. "They were talking about Simon. How did you know? Why would they have him here?"

The tone of her questions screamed _worried girlfriend_.

Clary's tears were still on her cheeks, but her eyes were all but dry when she turned to Isabelle. "We heard them, as we were walking out. Didn't you?"

Isabelle's jaw tightened. "No."

"Well I did. And I couldn't risk it, this country has no cell service and I haven't talked to Simon since we got here. I don't know why they would have him or about that business about a warlock, but whatever they're doing to him can't be good Izzy, can it?"

Isabelle looked sullen now. "We have to get him out, and that's gonna break all kinds of rules Clary. We need help, Jace and Alec, I could convince them. They know how much I ... they'll want to help."

Sebastian could tell that Clary clearly did not like the idea of going to others for help. But doing so would divert any suspicion. They had no better option. Clary nodded.

Simon starved in silence. If he had predicted as a kid how his life would end up, it most certainly would not have included torture and starvation and coercion. He was more than tired of having to suffer, and the more he suffered, the more he was sure Clary's world was what he wanted.

He wanted to always be fed, to sit and watch the world that had put him through this burn. All the people who had caused and allowed him to suffer dead.

His nerve endings felt as though they were scraping together like sandpaper, like he was this immobile corpse. Doomed. He had burn marks on his hands from his feeble attempts at escape, and they refused to heal because of how empty he was. His best friend was right, these people didn't deserve chances. As soon as she got him out of this, he would happily help her destroy them all.

Alec and Jace covered ground quickly. Alec had been worried since Aline had told them his sister had left with Clary and the Verlac boy while he and Jace were gone. The entire time he spent regretting that he had not told the truth to his sister sooner. If he had, Isabelle would not have gone off with Clary and her minion alone. He didn't trust that they would leave her unharmed.

Jace assured him as they jogged through the Glass City that Clary had not hurt Izzy so far, and she had no reason to want to blow a cover that had been nearly perfect. She, after all, could not even know that they knew the truth. They should keep their heads, Jace told him. Alec tried to listen, and it turned out that his sister was not hurt. In fact, he and Jace had turned a corner and suddenly Isabelle was there - Clary and Verlac on her heels, strolling towards them.

"Alec?" Isabelle asked when they were close enough. "What's going on?"

Alec took a moment to recover. "I just ... I didn't know where you three had gone is all," he said finally.

His sister eyed him strangely. "Okay... Well we were coming to get you anyway. We have a problem."

Alec wasn't quite sure what to say. Clary and Verlac were still standing there, completely at ease. He wanted to tell Izzy the truth, he knew Jace did too, but now seemed suddenly to be the worst possible time. Why give up their only advantage if Isabelle was right in front of them safe? He kept his mouth shut as Jace asked, "What's going on?"

"We think Simon is here," Clary told them.

Alec's eyebrows flew up. "In Alicante?" He asked. "Why would you say that?"

It was Sebastian that answered him. "The Nephilim at the gates said he'd been brought in. Something about a warlock and Valentine. We think they locked him up."

Alec saw Jace analyzing Verlac out of the corner of his eye. The guy sounded so genuine, it was almost as if he had no idea about Clary either. But Alec was too wired to play innocent until proven guilty. For now, it was guilty until proven innocent for anyone who was involved closely with Clary. That included Simon, and Alec worried about how Isabelle would react to that when Alec came clean to her about everything. But he couldn't do that now, and he couldn't very well refuse to help his sister free her boyfriend without a reason.

"So what's our play?" Jace asked for him.

Alec felt suddenly like he was _in _a play, everyone in their circle acting like their lives depended on it - with the exception of his sister. Another stab of guilt hit him for keeping her in the dark, especially after how scared he'd been just minutes ago. But that was just it- he'd been afraid. Even in telling Jace he'd acted out of worry and fear. He was glad Jace knew, but he also worried that maybe he should have stuck to Magnus's advice. So he'd seen Clary post sex, maybe he had too quickly made assumptions on what that meant. Doubt was filling every corner of his mind.

"Is that a problem Alec?" Clary's voice cut into his whirling thoughts.

Alec snapped back into reality. "What?"

"Do you have any objections about breaking Simon out? I know that Clave rules mean a lot to you."

Damn, he thought. Of course this girl had fooled him and everyone else. If Magnus hadn't known Jocelyn, she might never have been found out. She was that good at maintaining her persona. She sounded like a concerned friend, after all Alec been trying to subtly convince her they were friends since Magnus told him the truth about her. He almost regretted not just remaining cold with her, pretending to be her friend right now was more difficult than he could have foreseen at the time.

"The Law is important to all of us," he said, trying to keep the tell-tale bite from his words. "But," he continued, "Simon is too."

Clary beamed, and he buried the urge to scoff deep in his gut and left it there. He focused instead on Isabelle's grateful expression. Jace met his eyes, and they asked the silent question. Alec gave an almost undetectable nod.


	71. Chapter 71

Clary was pissed. Absolutely raging mad. How could she have been so stupid to think she could leave her best friend - a vampire who could walk in daylight no less - back in New York alone with the only person, at that point at least, who could have been able to figure out she had been lying, and everything would be just fine? She'd known Magnus Bane was a flight risk, even wasted valuable time attempting to convince him there was no reason to start spouting past tales, and still she had practically abandoned Simon to him. This was her fault, she should have known Bane would be smarter than that. He was Lilith knew how old at this point and was anything but naive. She had known as soon as that idiot Nephilim at the towers spoke that she had severely miscalculated.

And that was far from the only issue. With the way Jace and Alec had been casting glances at her and Izzy ever since they'd met up, Clary couldn't believe all this had gone past her notice. The mistrust was practically written across their faces, though they were clearly trying to conceal it. Magnus, this was all Magnus. She had never wanted to kill Bane- not really. In fact, with all the prejudice he'd likely had to endure from the Nephilim over his long life span, she thought he may have even come to understand like every other creature with demonic affiliation. But he was in bed with Alec Lightwood, and Clary should have known the effect that could have. She should have counted on it. Now that she was thinking about it- Alec had been unusually friendly to her since before they'd all even come to Idris. It was obvious in hindsight that he'd been trying to get close. That had changed now, the animosity was back and more intense, which meant he'd probably guessed about Sebastian and even maybe Simon too. She wondered how much he had told Jace, and how much he even knew in the first place.

Clearly, Isabelle knew nothing yet. Clary would have been able to tell if she did. Clary was still mourning the chance to go to Wayland Manner, or at least to have gotten far enough into the woods to do what she had thought to do. No one would have went looking for Isabelle out there. She'd thought that things were going to come to a close soon, and when that happened she hadn't wanted to lose Isabelle. She needed more time with the girl, to explain and convince her. To keep her locked up while Clary and Sebastian took care of the Clave and then their father. Something to give Clary more time with Izzy. Locking her up and lying about it - even if it wasn't believed - was the only plan she had been able to think of. Now, though, it didn't matter. There was probably no more time, and no way to get Izzy where Clary needed her to be under the radar. Now that Alec and Jace obviously knew better, there was no hope. She would have to let her friendship with Isabelle go.

Even without that, this was still disastrous. The cover was supposed to remain in tact until Clary and Sebastian had found out what they'd needed to about the mirror, at least. That was the whole point of infiltration- to find information that would be harder to find without them. And the mirror was the big one, the big piece of info she'd been counting on their help to find. Now all the trust building was for nothing and her and Sebastian still had jack shit.

_Right now absolutely none of this matters, _she told herself furiously- trying to get her mind back on track. What mattered was Simon. If Alec and Jace were content to continue the charade, then she would take all the help she could get to get her best friend back. Clary would deal with the mirror problem and her ridiculous emotions later.

Right now the parabatai pair had gone off to find out where Simon was most likely being kept. They had attempted to bring Isabelle along, but she had chosen to stay with Clary - since they were the only two, that Isabelle knew of, that had a real connection to Simon. Alec and Jace had both appeared extremely unhappy about this, but had agreed in the end - likely in attempt not to tip Clary off. _Too late_, she thought wryly. There was nothing to be done while they were gone but wait.

"What is it about Clarissa, that you love so deeply?"

Samuel's voice startled Simon so greatly that he actually flinched. The older man hadn't said a word since their first conversation, and Simon had resigned to believe it would stay that way until he got out of here - or one of them died. Suddenly Samuel was talking, and Simon wondered why. He still had no idea who this man was or how he knew what he knew about Clary, and he had no idea what side the man was on either. Simon had regretted giving so much of his hand away since the man had stopped speaking. Maybe this was the chance to tread carefully.

"I told you," Simon replied scratchily, "she is my best friend."

"And so you are willing to aid her in whatever horrible thing she and her father would have done to this world?" asked Samuel. It was obvious he was preventing himself from becoming emotional. This was all about the right words, Simon realized.

"What are you talking about?" He tried. He hoped playing dumb would get him somewhere, since being himself had gotten him days of what could only be called solitude.

For a long time, Samuel didn't say anything else. It must have been whole minutes later when there was a response. "Are you aware of what Clarissa is?"

"If you're going to talk nonsense, I'm gonna go back to sleep," Simon said, hoping he sounded convincing.

Apparently he did. "Your best friend is a demon, daylighter."

"And I'm the Queen of England."

"You would truly have me believe you are ignorant? After prancing in here declaring yourself a _Morgenstern man _and claiming to have been by Clarissa's side since childhood?" demanded Samuel, attempting to sound incredulous but seeming unsure enough to boost Simon's confidence in his acting ability. Maybe, he thought, he could give Clary a run for her money.

"Look Sam," began Simon. "I don't know what they've got you locked up in here, but my best friend is just a person. Got herself mixed up in shadowhunter business and then finds out her dad isn't dead but actually some sort of Warlord or whatever. And I've been having to pick up pieces, convince her that that name you say like a curse word is actually just a name, be supportive you know? And I'm not talking because honestly ... I don't know where my best friend stands. If she wants to help out these assholes who locked me in here, that's fine. If she wants to help her supposedly criminal father, that's fine too. I'm with Clary."

Simon reminded himself of when he was twelve, totally head over heels for Clary and ready to throw himself into whatever fire for her. It was almost easy channeling that again. Even he might have believed himself if the situation were reversed.

"It seems I've misjudged you. You're only an idiot."

Simon smirked, but protested, "Hey!"

"It's true, my boy. She must have done a number on you. That girl is no normal person with family issues and teenage insecurities as you think she is. You've been blinded by love and time. She is not loyal to you, she is loyal to the Morgenstern name you think she knew nothing of. She works for her father and you'd do well to remember it."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Simon bit back, trying to sound defensive but unsure.

Samuel didn't say anything else.

"Are you sure we should be doing this alone?" Jace asked Alec.

Alec didn't blame Jace for being unsure, but he didn't see any other option. It wouldn't matter to Izzy who rescued Simon, as long as she got him back. And Alec needed to get to Simon before Clary did. There was just too great a chance that Alec was right, and Simon was purposely working for Clary and Valentine. A lifetime of friendship meant at least that much. If it was true, Alec couldn't allow Clary to get her hands back on one of her allies. If Simon was, though the chances were slim, somehow ignorant of everything as he himself had been- then keeping Simon away from Clary would be to protect him. Izzy, once he had time to explain why he'd left her out of the rescue, would understand that. He regretted having to leave his sister with Clary and Sebastian again, but he hadn't exactly had another choice. Plus Clary had a reason now not to just run off, so the chances she would hurt Isabelle while he and Jace were gone were almost nonexistent- that would have to be good enough.

"I'm sure. It's the best option we have," he answered.

Blood. That's what Simon thought about in the silence, how good blood would taste once he got to drink it again. Once he got to drain someone of their blood, once he got to come back to life. It had been so long since he had gotten to feed freely, he couldn't imagine sparing another victim ever again. He would never again take blood for granted, he was sure. His thoughts were interrupted however, by a noise from above. A voice.

"Simon?" Someone asked. The voice was male, but it wasn't Jonathan's. Jace, he realized, it sounded like Jace. And it was coming from the grate leaking trickles of sunlight in from above.

"Huh?" Simon croaked, not sure what was going on. Was he really being rescued by Jace? It seemed so unlikely.

"It _is _you. We're gonna get you out of there alright?" Jace claimed.

Simon was considering the possibility that he might be well and truly losing his mind when there was a loud banging and the sound of metal on metal. The grate was being moved, and suddenly, a grunt later, Jace landed in front of him.

"Wow," said the blonde. "You look like crap."

Simon snorted. "Yeah I figured."

Jace sigh and came over to him, and suddenly Simon was being pulled into a standing position. Then he was somehow being supported and pushed upwards.

"Alec," Jace grunted with the weight.

Then there were hands grabbing at Simon, pulling him up into the light. He landed on grass with a groan, shielding his eyes against the setting sun. Alec and Jace were hovering over him before he knew it.

"You look dead," Alec observed.

Simon glared up at him, before he remembered.

"There's a guy," he told them shakily, "down there with me..."

Jace cocked his head to the left. "Like another prisoner?"

"Yeah," said Simon. "He was the only company I had. I can't just leave him down there."

The truth was Simon was concerned about Clary. This guy obviously knew way too much about her, and Simon didn't understand how. He couldn't allow this guy, even a prisoner in dungeons until death, to go on with that kind of knowledge. He could end up being a problem someday, and Clary didn't like loose ends. He wasn't sure how he planned to take care of things in this condition, but he had no chance if he just left Samuel down there.

Jace sigh, exasperated and turned back. Soon enough, there was the sound of effort and - to Simon's confusion - protest.

"No!" It was Samuel's voice, he sounded like he was struggling. "Just leave me down here, leave me alone!"

Simon sat up from where he was lying, trying to see what was happening as Jace and Alec finally hauled the man out into the daylight.

The man he'd known as Samuel was huddled into a feeble looking position underneath the stares of the three boys. He wasn't elderly like Simon had thought he was, despite the thick gray beard that covered half his face. His cheeks were practically lined out, eyes hollow. Simon was surprised, but he didn't understand why Alec and Jace were both so silent until he looked at their faces. Their eyes were wide, disbelieving. Almost identical expressions that Simon might have laughed at in other circumstances. Alec's lips moved, but there was no sound. It was Jace who breathed the name. "Hodge."

"Hodge?" asked Simon. He knew who they were talking about. Now it made sense how he had known so much about Clary. "But he said ..."

"Well that's just what Hodge does apparently, make you think he's someone he's not," Alec said bitterly.

"Jace," Hodge said sadly. "Alec ... I'm so sorry."

Jace moved suddenly, sprang into action as though there was a battle to be won. There was a knife in his hand, a knife Simon hadn't realized he had had. It was aimed at Hodge's throat practically before there was time to blink.

"Give me one reason," Jace spit, "why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Jace," Alec said with alarm. "Jace wait."

"All these years, all these years you've known who I was. Where I really came from, and you lied. You let me- my own sister."

Simon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was why Jace was so angry? Not just because his tutor betrayed them with his loyalties to Valentine, but because he'd _known _that Jace was Jonathan - which he wasn't even - and had _let _Jace fall in love with Clary. This was a new level of pathetic. Simon couldn't imagine what Jace would do if he knew what else Hodge supposedly knew about _him_. Hodge probably thought Jace was a demon just like Clary and still wasn't saying anything. If this wasn't so completely ridiculous, it would be funny. As it was though, he was too tired for it.

Hodge had paled though. "I- I wasn't sure..."

"Bull shit. You knew Valentine wasn't dead. You knew," Jace insisted angrily.

"He told me nothing," Hodge gasped. "When the Lightwoods informed me they were taking in Michael Wayland's son, I hadn't heard a word from Valentine since the Uprising. I had thought he had forgotten me. I'd even prayed he was dead, but I never knew. And then, the night before you arrived, Hugo came to me with a message from Valentine. _The boy is my son_, that's all it said." He took a ragged breath. "I had no idea whether to believe him. I thought I'd know- I thought I'd know just by looking at you. But there was nothing, nothing to make me sure. And I thought this was a trick of Valentine's, but what trick? It didn't make sense -"

"You should have told me who I was! The truth about Clary as soon as she showed up in our lives," Jace yelled.

"I tried to do my best by you," said Hodge weakly.

"Until Clary. Until Valentine came back," said Jace. "Then you did everything asked of you right? You lied and then you gave me to Valentine like I was a dog that belonged to him once. That he asked you to look after for a few years-"

"And then you left," Alec interjected, finally ready to speak it seemed. "You left us with Clary. Did you really think you could hide here? In Alicante?"

"I didn't come here to hide," Hodge said urgently. "I came here to stop them- to stop Valentine."

"You can't expect us to believe that," Alec sounded beyond furious. "You've always been on Valentine's side."

_Au contraire_, thought Simon.

"You could have turned your back on him-" Alec continued, but was cut off.

"I never could have chosen that!" Hodge's voice rose. "Your parents were given the chance for a new life, I was never given that! I was trapped in the institute for 15 years-"

"The institute was our home!" Alec yelled. "Was it really so bad living with us? Being part of our family?"

"Not because of you," Hodge insisted. "I loved you children. But you were children. And no place that you are never allowed to leave can be a home. I went weeks sometimes without speaking to another adult. No other Shadowhunter would trust me. Not even your parents truly liked me, they tolerated me because they had no choice. I could never marry- never have children of my own. Never have a life. And eventually you children would have been grown and gone, and then I wouldn't have even that. I lived in fear, as much as I lived at all."

"You can't make us feel sorry for you," replied Jace. "Not after what you did. And what the hell were you afraid of spending all your time in a library? Dust mites? We were the ones who went out and fought demons!"

"He was afraid of Valentine," Simon answered for the man, he was feeling awkward just sitting there listening, no one having acknowledged his relationship to Clary yet- and Hodge hadn't seemed like he was gonna say it.

Jace shot him a look that was devoid of any of the friendliness that was displayed earlier. "Shut up vampire, this isn't in any way about you."

_No shit_, Simon thought. He wanted to scoff in disgust at how quickly things change with Shadowhunters. One minute worthy of rescue, the next _the vampire_. Simon couldn't resist rolling his eyes this time. He laid back down in the grass though, no more energy left for this situation.

"Not Valentine exactly," Simon heard Hodge say. "My own weakness where Valentine was concerned. I knew he would return someday. I knew he would make a bid for power again, a bid to rule the Clave. And I knew what he could offer me: freedom from my curse. A life, a place in the world. I could have been a Shadowhunter again in his world. I could never be in this one again." Simon curled his lip at the naked longing in the man's voice. He could picture Clary's face if she were here to hear this.

"I knew I would be too weak to resist if he offered it," Hodge finished.

"And look at the life you got," Jace spat. "Rotting in a cell in the Gard. Was it worth it? Betraying us?"

"You know the answer to that," Hodge said. "Valentine took the Curse off me. He'd sworn he would, and he did. I thought he'd bring me back to the Circle - or what was left of it. He didn't. Even he didn't want me. I knew there would be no place for me in his new world. And I knew I'd sold out everything I did have for a lie." There was a pause. "There was only one thing I had left- one chance to make something other than an utter waste out of my life. After I heard what had happened to the Silent Brothers in the City of Bones - that Valentine had the Mortal Sword - I knew he would go after the Mortal Glass next, that he needed all three Instruments. And I knew the Glass was here in Idris."

Simon went completely tense. He prayed that no one would look at him, that no one would think to watch what they were saying in front of him. He remained still, and listened to every word with total focus and attention.

"Wait," said Alec. "The Mortal Glass? You mean, you know where it is? And who has it?"

"No one has it," Hodge answered. "No one could own the Mortal Glass. No Nephilim, and no downworlder."

"You really did go crazy down there didn't you?" said Jace.

Simon wanted to sock him, to tell the blonde boy to shut his mouth, to let the older man continue. This was more important than anyone here realized, and he hated Jace for interrupting. Thankfully, Hodge went on as though Jace hadn't spoken.

"I was locked in the institute for fifteen years. I couldn't put so much as a hand or foot outside. I spent all my time in the library, looking for ways to remove my Curse. I learned that only a Mortal Instrument could reverse it. I read book after book telling the story of the Mythology of the Angel, how he rose from the lake bearing the Mortal Instruments and gave them to Jonathan Shadowhunter, the first Nephilim, and how there were three of them - the Cup, the Sword, and the Mirror-"

"We know all this," Jace interrupted, exasperated. "You taught it to us."

"You think you know all of it, but you don't. As I went over and over the various versions of the histories, I happened again and again on the same illustration, the same image - we've all seen it - the Angel rising from the lake with the Sword in one hand and the Cup in the other. I could never understand why the Mirror wasn't pictured. Then I realized. The Lake is the Mirror. The Mirror is the Lake. They are one in the same."

Simon sat up then, no more use lying still. He watched as Jace finally lowered the knife he'd been holding. "Lake Lyn? How?"

"I realized that the Clave wasn't aware of this," Hodge continued, "that the knowledge had been lost to time. Even Valentine didn't know-"

_He will now_, Simon thought.

"You can tell the Clave this," Jace said. "Why haven't you?"

"The Clave isn't to be trusted!" Hodge said, getting to his feet. "There are spies in it- Valentine's men." For the first time, Hodge's eyes flickered to Simon. Simon must have been too slow in correcting whatever natural expression had been on his face, and Hodge's eyes widened in horror. Simon supposed acting like an ignorant little boy didn't really have a use anymore, and he smiled as he painfully hauled himself to a stand as well.

Jace noticed Hodge's eyes, and turned to look at Simon. It was just then that something whizzed past Simon's body. It was shiny and metal, and it buried itself between Hodge's ribs. Simon sighed in relief.

"What-" said Alec, but broke off in order to catch Hodge as he fell.

Jace's eyes were not on his tutor, who has a large blood stain spreading out from his center. They weren't even on Simon anymore, they were on something behind him. Simon followed Jace's gaze, knowing who he'd find.

Clary.

And just behind her: Jonathan. Both his best friends looked as smug as he expected them to be, and the smile he had stayed in place until Simon noticed another figure coming towards them, several feet behind where Clary and Jonathan stood. Isabelle came and skidded to a stop just behind them, clearly out of breath and confused.

Her eyes took in the whole scene, and Simon's smile slipped from his face. And then Isabelle was running past his favorite twins, and then past him, right towards her brother and her fallen tutor. She crouched down next to Hodge's bleeding form and looked up to her brother for answers. There was only silence.

"Simon," Clary said, not bothering to raise her voice or sound at all emotional. She had clearly heard everything, there was no more reason for a cover- for any of it. And that extended to him. "Let's go."

Simon chanced a glance at Isabelle, at the girl he loved. She seemed to be just starting to understand what was going on. Simon's eyes slipped to Hodge, he was staring at Clary. No, at Jonathan. This seemed to be a realization moment for everyone.

Isabelle was trying to draw iratzes on Hodge, but Simon knew it wouldn't work. He could see how much blood was leaving his body, it was what was holding Simon in place now.

"Someone help me," Isabelle yelled. "Alec what the hell is going on?!"

Jace was staring at Clary, until he heard Hodge's voice. "Jonathan."

"Jace," said Jace. "Call me Jace."

"No ... Not you." Blood poured from his mouth. "You were ... never ..."

And he died.

Simon tried to ignore how much seeing the blood hurt him. He was so thirsty he would have drained Hodge's dead body, and he thought Clary could see it.

"Simon," she said again, demanding. Somehow, he found his legs and moved towards her with all her strength.

"Where the hell are you going?!" Isabelle yelled at his back.

"Izzy, he's with them," he heard Alec tell his sister. Simon hoped one day Isabelle would let him explain. That she would let him save her, hope was all he could do now.

"What does that mean?!" screamed Izzy. "With them?! Clary? Clary and Sebastian are a _them_?"

"Clary just killed Hodge, Isabelle," Jace said.

Simon had reached Clary and Jonathan - Sebastian? - by that point, and Clary pulled him into a hug.

"We will find you someone to drink," Clary promised him, and then pulled him onward away from the carnage.

"Simon!" Isabelle shrieked, and Simon froze. Clary sigh.

They both turned back towards her. Isabelle was standing now, the dead body next to her on the ground and her shirt now covered in blood. Tears were in her eyes and Alec was holding her back by the arms.

"I don't understand" she whispered now, but Simon still heard.

"Maybe one day you will, sweetheart" Clary replied, because Simon clearly didn't have the strength to.

Isabelle turned into her brother as Clary and Simon walked away, Jonathan at their side.


	72. Chapter 72

"I have to send a fire message to Magnus," Alec said - finally breaking the silence. "Get him here."

Isabelle was still on the ground looking at Hodge's body, almost as if she needed proof that everything that had just occurred was real. But she turned at his words and looked up at him.

"What the hell good would bringing your boyfriend here do right now, Alec?" She asked incredulously.

Alec stared at her, hurt, but he could not blame her for being angry. He would have felt the same in her situation. Neither he or Jace had been able to find the right words to even explain anything yet, and she was confused and in pain - unable to deny what she'd seen.

"Alec," Jace said, probing him for an answer and bringing him back to himself.

"Hodge-" he broke off for a moment and swallowed before continuing, "Hodge was willing to spend the rest of his life in a hole to keep Valentine from having all three Instruments. I think it's time we knew why."

"You think Magnus knows?" Jace asked, unsure.

"No," Alec replied. "He would have told me, but I think he's one of the few people who can help us find out."

Jace sigh. "You should go then. Get a message to him. I'll -" he lowered his voice and eyed Izzy, who was still on the ground, "I'll stay with her, explain what I can."

Alec nodded and, sparing one last regretful glance towards his sister, walked away.

"Clary," Sebastian said when they were almost to the city's limits. "Wait."

"Why?" She asked, not slowing down. "We got what we came here for. A lot sooner than expected even. I want to tell daddy dearest and get this over with."

Sebastian sigh. "That's what I'm saying. When we ... back when this was all just a plan I discussed it with him. In detail. Taking out the demon towers has always been a requirement."

Clary finally stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. Simon was staring at him now too. "What? Why didn't you ever tell me that? Is that even possible?"

"From what I understand," he began carefully, "we make it possible. That's why we can't leave yet. Valentine knows you could have found out about the mirror on your own, but once you came to Idris he wanted me here with you. I'm pretty sure it's because I knew about the towers and you didn't."

"He could have just told me. You're saying I can find the mirror myself but not take out the towers?"

"I know you can. I guess he wanted us both here just in case. He's paranoid Clary you know that - it's why my job this whole time has been to keep an eye on you."

"Apparently not your only job. You're obviously the one trusted with information here and not me," she bit back.

"Clary," Simon interjected. "Calm down. It's not like it really matters who Valentine trusts more."

Clary looked for a moment like she was about to say something cold, but then she stopped and swallowed - her pupils widening slightly. "You're right," she seemed to realize. "I don't know why I was acting like that."

"You're upset about Izzy," Sebastian explained, and upon seeing Simon's confusion told him: "They were getting close lately."

Simon looked a little heart-sad at that, and he and Clary shared a look of mutual pain and disappointment. Then Clary sigh and looked back at her brother. "Tell me how we take out the towers."

"It doesn't make sense," Isabelle was mumbling. "She - they're working for Valentine. Right? That's what that was all about? But that doesn't make sense."

Jace knelt down next to her and put his hand on her back in support. She tensed but at least didn't shrug him off. "Yeah Iz that's what that was all about."

"But why?!" She exploded. "I know them! Clary was my friend! And Simon ... by the Angel. Simon."

"I don't know about Simon, Isabelle. He- I don't know. There could be any number of reasons. Clary is his best friend, you always knew that." Jace was doing his best to put aside his own sense of betrayal for Isabelle's sake.

"You're right," said Isabelle. "I always knew that. Always. I knew Clary before she even knew she was one of us. When Simon was more mundane than you can imagine. We were friends and they didn't know about me and we were all friends. I was even around when Clary got kidnapped and -"

She broke off and stared up at Jace with wide eyes. "She was kidnapped. It was Valentine! Had to of been and he's her father so- so he could have brainwashed her! And then she did the same to Simon or something. This whole time it's just been some kind of Stockholm thing and we never-"

"Izzy," Jace said loudly. "Stop. It's not brainwashing or Stockholm whatever or anything like that. What Clary is, she has been since she was born. She has demon blood Isabelle, she's a demon."

"But ... no. We would know. We ... we would have been able to tell," Isabelle insisted, but she didn't even sound like she believed herself.

"No. We couldn't have known. She was convincing," said Jace. "Hell, I thought I was in love with her because she was so convincing. And I only met her at Pandemonium. Simon knew her all their lives. Manipulating him, or anyone else for that matter, would have been easy for her."

"You don't think him becoming a vampire was chance anymore do you?" Isabelle asked him in a small voice.

Jace released a sympathetic breath. "No," he replied sadly. "I don't."

"How long have you known?" She asked suddenly.

"Only found out this morning, before you took them out of the house. Alec knew for a few weeks, but Magnus wasn't sure enough to recommend he say anything I guess, I'm not sure." Jace grimaced. "I'm sorry Iz."

"Now it makes sense why he never wanted us to be friends," Isabelle whispered.

Jace opened his mouth to reply, but he broke off when something in the corner of his eye distracted him. He looked up just in time to see, in the distance, the glow of the demon towers - that which meant Alicante was protected from demonic invasion - wink out. Isabelle followed his line of sight, and her jaw opened in silent confusion and disbelief.

Clary was almost jealous right now. Scaling the towers looked fun, like a rush. At first, finding out you couldn't die was exhilarating- but now it just took the exhilaration out of everything that was supposed to be fun and dangerous. Watching her brother scale the towers, getting higher and higher above her head with nothing to keep him from falling, Clary thought it looked like more fun than anything she'd done in months and months.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you out of there sooner," Clary told Simon while she watched Sebastian climb. "I didn't know you weren't safe back in New York where I left you."

Simon scoffed. "Safe in New York. Right." He sounded bitter, unlike Simon. She finally took her attention away from her brother and looked at him. "What exactly happened? I know it has something to do with Magnus but nothing else."

"Bane is gonna die," Simon said without looking at her. "I'm gonna kill him."

Now Simon had more than her undivided attention. She looked at him in shock. "What did he do to you?" she demanded.

"What didn't he do?" Simon spit. "He kept me locked in a see-through cell for ... I can't even tell you how long. No blood. Just me and the holy water and a whole lot of burning flesh. Who would have thought the catacombs of Alicante would be more pleasant to a vampire than Magnus Bane."

The anger Clary felt at the words was indescribable. She'd knew she'd made a mistake when she left Simon in New York with Magnus, but she wouldn't have guessed the extent of it. She never would have guessed this. "Simon I-"

"It's fine," Simon cut her off. "I don't want pity. I know now that you and Jon- sorry. Sebastian - were right about this world. But Bane isn't gonna be a part of it, not as long as I'm undead."

Clary just nodded silently, vowing that if Simon ended up unable to do it himself- she would make Magnus pay for him. "Did he give you a reason?" she asked, wanting to do as he asked and not show any pity.

"Yeah. Tell him about you, and it would end. Obviously that wasn't going to happen," Simon replied.

"I knew I could count on you," she told him.

"No matter what."

The glow of the towers went out just then, and Sebastian was on his way back down to them. Clary and Simon exchanged triumphant looks, silently acknowledging that it was time to get down to business.

Alec had returned less than thirty seconds afterwards. "What just happened?" he asked of Jace and Isabelle, despite being sure that they wouldn't know.

"Is Magnus coming?" Jace asked instead of answering.

"Yeah, he said it might take a while to figure out portaling because of the w-" he broke off and looked over again at the towers which no longer glowed. "Might be a little faster now if that really just happened."

"I think it did," said Jace.

Isabelle was suddenly on her feet and moving towards where Alec stood.

"Iz?" Jace asked. "What are you doing?"

"It doesn't make sense," she told him without stopping her progression.

Alec reached out and grabbed her arm before she could pass him. She tore the limb away but was finally still.

"They wanted to go there, or at least Clary did. She wanted to take me there and I have to know why."

"You're not making sense, Izzy," Alec told her. "Take you where?"

"Wayland Manor," Isabelle replied. "I was taking Clary and Sebastian ... or I guess they were taking me to Wayland Manor before that guard at the gate said something about Simon and stopped us. They wanted to go there and I can't miss my chance to find out the reason, if there is one."

"Miss your chance? Isabelle I don't think that now is the best time for a field trip. Alicante isn't secure right now," Alec reminded her.

"Exactly!" she yelled. "The towers just went down Alec. We have maybe five minutes if that before this city is locked down by guards. Everywhere. They won't let anyone in or out, and I have to get out. I didn't say anything before because I thought I had time to go there myself at some point later on, but the towers are down. So either come with me or let me go, but I have to know."

Alec and Jace only stared at her while she looked back at them expectantly.

"She's right Alec," Jace said finally. "It could be nothing, earlier we were both thinking they just wanted to get her away from us right? And that could still be it. But if it isn't we have to know. They named the place where I grew up, maybe there are answers there or maybe not, but Izzy is right about the city. It's now or never."

It was a long moment before Alec finally nodded, and then Isabelle was off like a shot - her brother and Jace at her heels.


	73. Chapter 73

Magnus had been worried ever since he'd handed Simon over to the Nephilim. Word of that kind of thing can travel fast through the downworlder community if it got out, and then it would take years for any of them to trust him with their problems again. But he hadn't very well had a choice. He was getting nothing out of the vampire on his own, beyond of course what he'd managed to deduce, and he couldn't of let him go. Letting him go would have meant allowing him to go immediately to Clary, and Magnus had already drilled into Alec the need not to provoke her.

He'd done what he'd had to do, and since then he'd been anxious. Waiting to hear any sort of news from Alexander had been hardly bearable, and he did not have much to busy himself with these days besides thoughts of Morgenstern plotting and images of streets running with blood. He was about an hour or so into another _party _in Chairman Meow's honor, downworlder bodies packing his loft, when he'd received Alec's fire-message.

_She outed herself  
__Got what she came for  
__We really need you here  
__\- A_

Magnus had promptly expelled everyone from his home, the protests that the vampires had barely just shown up meaningless to him. According to Alec, Clary had accomplished something, and though he could not know for sure what it was, he more worried than ever. He locked his loft from the inside and portalled directly into Idris.

"Isabelle," Alec tried for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last ten minutes. "There's nothing here."

Jace felt that he had to agree. Being back in his childhood home was making him exceedingly uncomfortable, and he just didn't see the purpose for it. The three of them had slowly made their way through the manor house and had ended up in the library of sorts. Jace remembered this room well, it was where he'd first learned his full name. Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. His fa - Valentine had been more than angry with him, and Jace couldn't say he ever fully understood why. He hadn't even had the chance to look inside the book his name was on, so he hadn't understood what he'd done wrong. But he'd been whipped nonetheless. Jace locked up the memory, scolding himself for thinking of childhood.

"Yeah Iz," he said. "I'm with Alec. I don't think there's any specific reason Clary wanted you here. She probably just wanted to get you away from us."

Isabelle, not surprisingly at this point, dutifully ignored the both of them. She continued to tear her way through books, simply needing to find something. Anything. In a way, Jace understood it. She had just been severely betrayed and no one could offer her any entirely certain answers why. Tearing through this manor, with all its potential secrets, was likely all she felt she had left to attempt putting the pieces together.

Jace and Alec seemed to have resigned themselves to watching her work, just as they had in the living room, Valentine's and Jace's old sleeping quarters- which had both been eery- and the kitchen. Neither of them said it, but Jace knew they were both hoping she just made it through the entire house and didn't find anything so that they could leave and go meet Magnus.

But that wasn't what happened.

Isabelle had reached up, her hand knocking out every book on what Jace remembered as the forbidden shelf, and something happened. Isabelle didn't even appear to notice at first, but Jace and Alec both gaped at the wall that was now making very loud grinding and banging noises from within.

"Isabelle," Alec said.

Nothing.

"Isabelle!" Jace yelled, capturing her attention finally but without taking his eyes off the wall. Isabelle turned to look as well, just in time to see a gaping hole open up.

"Did you know about this?" Alec asked Jace, his voice astounded. Jace could tell he wasn't asking because he actually believed Jace might have known about it, but simply due to incomprehension.

"No," Jace answered anyway, just as amazed. Slowly, he took out his witchlight and approached the cellar. Some dank, metallic smell greeted them as he entered.

The Lightwood siblings trailed after him silently, and they three found themselves on a dark spiral staircase that went down and down and down. It reminded them of the catacombs in Alicante, only this staircase tightened the deeper one descended, and it hadn't smelled like this. The musty scent from before increased as they made their descent, until it was impossible to ignore. Finally, it seemed, they reached the bottom. The steps underneath them widened into a square room with stone walls, they were streaked with dampness and other darker stains. The floor was scrawled with markings, pentagrams, stones all scattered around.

Jace took a step forward and heard a crunching sound. Isabelle took in a breath behind him.

He looked down just in time to see as she whispered, "Bones."

"What the hell was he doing down here?" Alec asked in the same low tone.

"Experiments," Jace answered, tense. "Had to be."

"What kind of bones are these though," Isabelle seemed to have regained some of her wits. "Some kind of animal maybe?"

"No," Alec replied, kicking some of the bones around his feet. "At least not all of them."

"Anyone want to go back?" Jace asked, looking mostly at Isabelle. But he could see the determination on her face without her having to reply aloud. Suddenly, the witchlight in Jace's hand blazed out brightly, lighting the air with a harsh white brilliance. Everything in the room came into focus, all the way to its four corners.

Alec stepped forward in response, looking at something past Jace. "Guys," he said. "What is that?"

Jace and Isabelle both followed his eyes, noticing what he already had. There was a hunched shape in the fourth corner, blocked by a hanging cloth. Steeling his nerve, Jace made his way toward the shape- his witchlight glowing brighter and brighter the closer he got. With a breath to prepare himself, he pulled the cloth off of the shape before him. Jace was not alone in gasping, and then he panicked. It was an Angel, he was positive the others knew it just as assuredly as he did. He stumbled close to the Angel on the floor, needing to for some reason. But then he bounded off something he couldn't see and was forced to recoil. He looked down to see that the Angel was inside another pentagram, it was made of connected runes graven deeply into the floor; they glowed with light.

"The runes," Isabelle observed aloud, sounding just as stricken as he felt. "We can't get past-"

"There must be something," Jace insisted in a voice that sounded broken even to his own ears, "something we can do."

The Angel raised its head then. Its hair was golden, but the eyes were hollow and its face was slashed with scars. It was beautiful and terrible, and Jace was overwhelmed with pity. As the three stared, the Angel opened its mouth and sound poured out from within. Not words, but rather a piercing golden musical note that held and held so high and sweet that it was nearly painful -

Images exploded in front of Jace's eyes, only Alec and Isabelle's subtle gasps of surprise told him it was the same for them. But he was quickly too distracted by the feeling of separation to care. It was like Jace was gone, floating somewhere far from himself. Pictures of the past floated before his eyes like a dream.

_He was in a bare, clean wine cellar, a single huge rune scrawled into the floor. A man stood beside it, holding an old book and chanting. Jace knew before the older man looked up that it was Valentine, much younger than he remembered from even his childhood. As he chanted, the large rune blazed up with fire and then receded, a crumpled figure now lay among ashes. An Angel, wings spread and bloody as if shot out of the sky._

_The scene changed. Valentine stood by a window, a young woman with shiny red hair by his side. Jocelyn, and she was very obviously pregnant._

_"The Accords," Valentine was angrily ranting, "were not only the worst idea the Clave has ever had, but the worst thing that could happen to Nephilim. That we should be bound to those creatures -"_

_"Valentine," Jocelyn interrupted smiling. "Enough about politics, please." She wrapped her arms around his neck, her look full of love. His look was not of love, but Jace could see why a woman would think it. Valentine always knew just how to get exactly what he wanted._

_The scene changed again. Valentine now knelt in in the center of a circle of trees. The moon overhead shedding light on the pentagram scrawled into the earth before him. The branches overhead made a thick net above it, but at its corners the leaves curled and turned black. In the center of the star sat a woman with long, shining hair. She was slim and lovely, but her face was hidden in shadow and her arms were bare and white. Her left hand was extended in front of her, giving Jace a view of the slash across her palm. It was dripping a slow stream of blood into the cup at the edge of the pointed star. The blood was almost surely black._

_"Any child born with this blood in them," she said in a lovely, cold voice, "will exceed in power the Greater Demons of the abysses between worlds. Nothing under Heaven will cut them down. They will be more mighty than the Asmodei, stronger than the shedim of the storms, forever. Though I warn you, it will burn out humanity, as poison burns the life from the blood."_

_"My thanks to you, Lady of Edom," said Valentine. As he reached to take the cup of black blood, the woman lifted her head. Jace thought for a moment that she might have been beautiful, but her eyes were black holes from which protruded waving black tentacles. Jace clamped down on the noise of fear that built in his throat._

_The woman vanished. Jocelyn had returned, she was facing someone Jace could not quite see. She was not so obviously pregnant now, but Jace thought maybe she still had a few pounds of baby weight left. She looked entirely exhausted, and more than that- afraid._

_"I can't stay with him Ragnor," she cried. "Not for another day. I read his book. Do you know what he did to Jonathan? I never imagined Valentine could do that. He used demon blood. Jonathan isn't a baby anymore, he's a monster... and I feel it. I didn't even tell him I was pregnant again! But it's there, the sickness. I told him I was feeling ill and it improved slightly after that, the Angel knows why. But I can't stay. If Valentine discovers for sure that I'm pregnant again... who knows what damage he's already done. I can't lose another child."_

_She vanished. Valentine reappeared, pacing around the circle of runes with a seraph blade in hand. "Why won't you speak?" He demanded. "Why won't you give me what I want?" He drove down the blade, and the Angel writhed as gold liquid poured from the wound. "Fine, if you will not give me answers, you will give me your blood. It will do me more good than it will you."_

_The scene changed once again. Jace was now in an unfamiliar house, and Valentine was there again. Only this time, Hodge was with him. And they were not entirely alone, the body of a dead woman lay before them. The woman was pregnant, blood pooled around her wrists. Even Jace could tell she was gone, but watching as Hodge and Valentine cut her open and took the baby - who was somehow still alive - from inside her was still horrific. Jace felt something stir inside him at the scene though, like he should know what was happening even though he'd never seen it before._

_"What will you do with him?" Hodge asked Valentine as he wrapped the baby, still bloody from his birth, in blankets._

_The scene changed before Jace could hear the answer. The scene now was of an unfamiliar alleyway. But it was familiar all the same, and Jace was almost positive that this was New York, and it was late at night. And suddenly Clary came around the corner and walked into Jace's vision. Her face looked just slightly younger, and she came to a stop right in front of him. He had a perfect profile vision on her._

_"I know you're there. Just come out so we can get this over with," she said, and Jace looked toward the corner she'd come around expectantly. Someone else did step out of the shadows, and Jace did a double take. It was Sebastian Verlac, but not. His hair was white, like Valentine's, and it made his eyes appear even darker._

_It was a long, long moment before Clary spoke again. "Who the hell are you?"_

_"My name's Jonathan," Sebastian proclaimed, and every single muscle in Jace's body tensed in response. "I'm gonna need you to come with me."_

_The visions came in flashes now. Clary murdering a man outside of a club, Clary murdering Dorothea for the Cup, and the worst of all of it was the vision of Clary murdering Robert Lightwood. Jace even watched as Sebastian - or Jonathan - cut down Silent Brothers for the Mortal Sword._

_And then Jace was returned to the cellar, the same cellar he knew he was really standing in. Only it was not the same, because Valentine was there and kneeling before the Angel. He was no longer young, but appeared as his present day self._

_"Ithuriel," he said. "We are old friends now, aren't we? I could have left you buried alive under those ruins, but no, I brought you here with me. All these years I've kept you close." Valentine went on and on, demanding to understand things he couldn't possibly hope to understand. Selfish things, about power and jealousy and hate. He spoke of justice but sounded nothing but evil. He stopped, and Ithuriel still sat as silent as a statue, eyes betraying nothing but impossible sorrow._

_"Very well," Valentine spit. "Keep your silence. I will have my chance. I have the Mortal Cup, Ithuriel, and my son will bring me the Sword. But without the Mirror I cannot begin the summoning. The Mirror is all I need. Tell me where it is, tell me where it is Ithuriel and I will let you die."_

Slowly, the vision faded and Jace returned to his true and solid form. He was too shocked to do anything but stare. As he did so, something floated across his mind again, but not a vision. Just simple images, runes. He understood then what he had to do and, taking out his stele, drew what Ithuriel wished of him. When he was finished with his work he stepped back. Alec and Isabelle moved to stand beside him, and Jace realized he'd dropped his witchlight and that its gleam was gone. The only light came from Alec's seraph blade. The barrier was gone, and the Angel reached up and took the blade from him. Jace thought for a moment that the Angel smiled. Then it turned the blade in its grasp and rested the sharp tip just below the breastbone. Nobody moved as Ithuriel drove the blade home.

Its head fell back, its hands dropping from the hilt which protruded just where its heart would be. Flames burst from the wound, spreading outward from the blade and the Angel's body shimmered into white flame. Its wings flew wide and white before they too were consumed in holy flame. Jace's body was shaking, and he didn't realize at first that it wasn't emotion racking him. He stumbled, and Alec and Izzy did as well. The house was shaking, the stones beneath them grinding together and dirt and dust coming down onto them from above.

"The manor," he shouted at the others at the same time he realized. "It was connected to Ithuriel. If Ithuriel dies the manor-"

He didn't bother to finish, Alec had already seized Isabelle's hand and was running for the stairs. Jace kept on their heels. They reached the top step and exploded into the library, not even slowing down before making a beeline for the stained glass window. Alec threw a chair at it on their way and glass shattered almost at the same time they toppled through it. They ignored the bite of glass against their skin as they continued running until they were a decent five hundred feet from the manor.

They stopped, panting, and watched from a safe distance as what remained of the house erupted and ended up nothing but smoke.

They stood for a moment, just looking on in morbid disbelief. Finally, though, the spell seemed to break. Jace looked over at the siblings just in time to see Isabelle fall to her knees and weep. Alec knelt down next to her, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders in support. Jace could see his eyes were shining as well, and he didn't blame him. Jace knew without a doubt that they had seen absolutely everything he'd been shown as well.

"Iz?" Alec asked once his sister had stopped shaking and began wiping furiously at her face and nose.

She looked up at him and Jace, her eyes still wet but hard. "That bitch killed my dad. She killed dad and there's absolutely nothing we can do. They're immortal demon siblings, what the hell are we supposed to do?"

Neither Jace or Alec had an answer for her, and the three of them stayed that way for what seemed a very long time.


	74. Chapter 74

Simon felt a little like he'd gone into hiding. He, Clary, and Sebastian had all been about to leave Alicante when Clary had stopped. She'd realized that bringing Simon with them to meet Valentine was actually a very bad idea. It was easy to forget, since Simon played absolutely for Clary's team, that Valentine wouldn't accept him. He was a vampire, scum in the man's opinion. Valentine had no idea about a lot of things. His children were romantically involved and best friends with a newbie vamp, and he was none the wiser. And it would have to stay that way until he took control of the Clave and Clary and Sebastian took him out.

So, it was either they left the city and Simon got stashed in the woods somewhere until he was needed, or he stayed in Alicante and tried to make himself useful.

Clary had encouraged the first option, she was sure that if the Lightwoods or any other shadowhunter caught him watching them that they wouldn't hesitate to hurt or even kill him, depending. Having an eye on the inside just wasn't worth risking him, she insisted. And there was nothing the Lightwoods or anyone else could do to stop them as it was, so it wasn't like there was much risk involved. Especially since Valentine had his own people within the Clave who were capable enough.

But Simon, for once, had disagreed with his best friend. Alicante had to of been minutes from going on lockdown, and they wouldn't be able to come back at all once they'd left. What if something changed and they needed back in?

Clary hadn't liked this question, had rolled her eyes and brushed it off as nonsense. But Simon kept pushing, insisting that he wasn't gonna sit in the woods and twiddle his thumbs when he could potentially be of some use. Sebastian hadn't liked it either, but he'd been able to think rationally. He was the one that reminded Clary and Simon both that the longer they stood in plain sight arguing the less time they had to leave the city silently. This had finally ended the argument, and Clary had resigned herself to ordering Simon to find some new clothes. The bloody, ripped ones he was wearing, she insisted, would make it less likely for him to be ignored if he happened to be spotted. Finally, with a long look and a worried goodbye, Clary and Sebastian had set off.

There was something else, though, something Simon hadn't said. He was pretty sure Clary had been so insistent on his safety because she saw through his words. While it was true that he wanted to be of help, what he really wanted was Isabelle.

He'd thought he could do it, just make the choice to follow after Clary and cut ties. All the hate in his heart had told him he could, and he very nearly did. But looking the dimmed wards of Alicante in the face and knowing that walking through meant an irrevocable sort of goodbye between himself and Isabelle forever, he hadn't been able to go through with it.

He should have, he should have been able and willing to sit in the woods for a few days and wait for everything to come to a close. But he couldn't leave Izzy behind. It was his one true flaw, he supposed, this irrational love for someone who stood firmly on the opposing side. For someone who, after the way she had looked at him from her place behind Hodge's still form, probably hated him now.

He'd known from the very beginning that he would eventually have to choose between following Clary and loving Isabelle, and he'd tried to make that choice and stick to it. After everything he'd felt and gone through since Clary had disappeared so long ago, he knew there was no going back. He was this Simon now, and the old one was quite literally dead. But Isabelle- Isabelle was somehow still there in his unbeating heart.

He couldn't live that way, with that remaining inside him. He was actively aiding in the destruction of humanity as a whole. If Clary got what she wanted, which was also what Simon wanted, then the human world would burn. Nephilim as they were would be no more. Those lucky enough to live would be subjugated at best. The streets would run with human blood and demons and downworlders alike would roam free, only to answer to the Morgenstern name. He'd heard it all from Clary, had accepted it and sacrificed to bring it to be. There was no stopping it now.

Loving Isabelle Lightwood did not fit into that, it never had. Clary had always known that, had always tried to warn him. And then Isabelle had somehow come to mean something to Clary as well, but not in any way as much as she meant to Simon. Still, it meant less interference. And Simon had just fallen more in love as a result.

Something that was still human inside of him called to Isabelle, and the only way to survive in the world that would come was too snuff that out. And Simon, no matter how he'd tried to run from it, knew that that wouldn't change unless Isabelle chose to stand with Clary as he did. Or she died.

Simon sigh to himself and set off to steal some clothes from wherever he could get them.

"He's being completely unreasonable," Clary hissed to her brother as they stood in the corner.

The sky outside was the dimly lit grey of just after sundown. They'd gotten back to the cottage Valentine had been hiding out in about a half hour ago. After he'd gotten over the pleasant surprise of seeing them, as they'd so quickly accomplished in what he had failed, he'd begun making arrangements. He'd taken out some ripped, very old pages from Lilith knew where and consulted them for a good ten minutes, muttering and pacing around. It was obvious to Clary that Valentine was entirely mentally compromised, paranoid, and unfit. How he'd managed to convince a whole faction of Nephilim to regard him as a god all these years mystified her completely. But regardless, he had. And at least he was determined.

Or that's what she'd been telling herself until about five minutes ago, when Valentine had started yammering about issuing warnings and other nonsense.

"The Clave will be given the chance to submit peacefully," he'd said. "This is what is best for them."

"They don't deserve-" Clary had tried to interject, but Sebastian had placed a warning hand on her shoulder and she had backed off.

Her father had continued as though she hadn't tried to interrupt in the first place. "I have received word," he'd claimed, "that the Council will be meeting at daybreak in the Great Hall of the Angel to discuss the Wards."

"And you're going," Clary said, not as a question.

"It is the best opportunity to encourage the Clave to see reason," Valentine confirmed. "It is also my every confidence that Maryse's children and Jace will inject themselves into such a gathering somehow, they will be easily swayed I trust."

Clary spoke through her teeth now, it was all she could do to keep from yelling at the man. "What makes you trust that?"

"You've spent months with them Seraphina, was I wrong to assume you would be doing something other than laying around and relaxing?" He asked, as though he was disappointed a child hadn't cleaned up her toys.

Sebastian spoke before Clary had the chance to lose her temper. "Cl- Sera was very busy locating the Cup and researching the Mirror, Father."

Valentine waved away the remark. "Yes, yes. Still, upon her release Maryse will expect me to have at least tried to guide them."

Clary had opened her mouth to speak again, but Sebastian had just nodded and pulled Clary forcefully away from Valentine before she had the chance to cause any damage. They were, after all, every bit as undercover in their father's presence as they were with the Lightwoods. And now here they were, standing in the corner at the end of the hall watching Valentine pace around and consult his ancient-looking texts, hissing at each other.

"We should have expected this," Jonathan replied. "He believes Maryse will already be angry with him for leaving her to be locked away. He wants the others here for her good will."

"He's insane if he thinks any of them will just come along submissively. Though it amazes me that he manages to intimidate anyone. I mean," she gestured towards her father with her arm, "look at him."

Sebastian smirked at her. "It will be fine Clary," he whispered. "It will take him about three seconds to realize this and then he will throw his fit and get along with the plan."

Clary nodded, but the scowl didn't leave her face.

The guards at the gates were not pleased to see Jace, Alec, and Isabelle approaching the city in the dark. They had been gone maybe a little more than two hours, and there was already at least ten Nephilim in their limited line of sight alone watching the wall. Isabelle couldn't imagine the state of panic on the inside. It took forever for the guards to verify who they were and allow them back inside, with a severe warning not to leave the city again unless they were prepared to stay gone. The suspicion was for once completely understandable. This had never been supposed to happen, ever. Isabelle still wasn't sure how Clary had managed to take down the Wards.

It took about ten or so minutes once they were inside the city to make it back to the Penhallows, and Magnus was waiting at the front steps when they got there. Very few people were on the street right now, but Isabelle was still a little surprised when Alec didn't hesitate to embrace the warlock and plant a quick but intense kiss on his lips. Magnus tried to play it off like he wasn't surprised at all, but Isabelle could see the quiet gladness in his eyes.

That gladness faded some when he took in Jace's and Isabelle's faces, and he became instantly alert.

"We finally found answers," Alec explained.

Magnus looked somber and immediately asked to be told everything. Alec was the one to retell the events of the past hours, starting with when they'd broken Simon out of the Guard and ending with Wayland Manor exploding to bits. Magnus's face became more and more thunderstruck the longer Alec talked, and Isabelle almost resented having to hear it all again. She was still so angry she didn't know how she was managing to hold together.

She couldn't even have said which part was the worst, and the hopelessness seemed to become heavier and heavier as the minutes past.

"We don't know how we're supposed to stop them," Jace said when Alec had finished. "We were hoping we might be able to understand their plan at least. What Valentine needed all three Instruments for is beyond me, but knowing what's coming has to be better than not knowing."

Magnus nodded. "I will portal home to pick up some of my texts, you find out in the Penhallows have anything useful inside. I'll be back."

And with a last kiss for Alec and a simple spell, he was gone. He returned remarkably quickly though, after little more than a half hour. Aline welcomed him in and introduced him to everyone without a second thought. Everyone seemed to be ignoring the anxiety of those around them. No one felt safe right now, and it was obvious with the shaky smiles. But each of them were Nephilim, and they were willing to fight if it came to that. It all depended on the Clave's word, and Isabelle found out they'd discover it tomorrow after sunrise. It didn't take more than a suggestion for Alec and Jace to agree to go to the Hall in a few hours, half the house's occupants were planning to intrude as well. Everyone was tired of waiting around, not knowing whether or not they were under attack. Isabelle very much included herself in that. She tried to focus on the research she was doing, combing through Magnus's texts and the books the Penhallows had had for details about the Instruments. Finally, it was Magnus who came across what they'd been unknowingly looking for. Isabelle dispelled the hopelessness from her mind, allowing a cold sort of determination to take its place.

Earlier that day when Clary had explained where she'd been as Simon had been rotting away unknowingly beneath her nose, she had told him she'd been staying with Amatis for a while. The woman was apparently the sister to Clary's late adoptive father, Luke. And it was this information that led him to find her place of residence, seeing it as the best opportunity to get off the streets.

Which was how he'd ended up in her house, his fangs in her artery. He hadn't planned to feed on her, but she'd caught him sneaking in to steal some shadowhunter clothes.

Her face had been calm, and her seraph blade had been clutched tightly in her hand as she asked him how he'd managed to get into Alicante and why he was taking her dead ex husband's gear. Simon hadn't been inclined to give those answers, so he'd attacked.

He'd been being starved for weeks, and he had no hope of controlling himself now. He'd tried to drain her slowly, to enjoy it, but she was empty too quickly. He put her in her closet and closed it tightly, doubting anyone would be around until it was too late. Then he put on her ex husband's old gear and left the place, content with knowing Clary would probably be pleased with him when he told her.

Afterwards, he stuck to the night shadows. This proved easy since hardly any Nephilim were on the street this late, especially with their precious Wards down. He made it to where Isabelle was staying fairly quickly, and arrived just in time to see Magnus Bane disappear through a portal before the other three went inside. He watched the house all night after that. As late as it went on, the light on the second floor never shut off.


	75. Chapter 75

The Great Hall was a buzz with chatter from those, like their group, that had managed to get inside before it was blocked off from the majority of the city. Alec, Jace, Isabelle, and Magnus had gotten here practically at sun up, beating the Council themselves. But they - the Inquisitor, the Consul, and every other member who had a say - had arrived eventually. It was the most informal Clave meeting Alec could have imagined, he assumed it was because they'd never seen such circumstances before.

Everyone was on their feet speaking loudly at each other. Except - Alec noticed - not Isabelle. She sat on the side of the fountain, having a conversation with the mermaid inside. Anyone else would assume it was because she was tired, but Alec knew his sister. She had been acting differently since last night, right around when they'd found out the likelihood they would all die far outweighed their chances to live. Isabelle had been empty before then, but after that she'd seemed to have hardened. Like she had accepted they were going to die but was preparing herself mentally and physically to go down fighting anyway.

Alec didn't know how she was doing it. Behaving so calmly, having an easy discussion with the possibility of her death on the horizon. Alec understood determination, he knew that shadowhunters had to be strong in the face of great evil. That they had to win or die trying, it was a basic part of the job description. But no one ever said you couldn't be afraid, at least slightly. Isabelle wasn't battling nerves or fear, she appeared fine. Ready. He couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd been so distracted with his own worries over his sister that he had zoned out of the argument for a few minutes.

He focused back on the ongoing conversation. Magnus was speaking now, strongly suggesting that the Clave should consider enlisting downworlder help against Valentine. Valentine was famed for his hatred of downworld, he pointed out, and there was no question the Clave remaining intact was the better alternative for downworlders throughout the world. If the Clave simply climbed down off their high horses to ask, Magnus was sure that they would be able to gather some support. The Inquisitor, and the rest of those in the vicinity, seemed to be listening to his words, but the Consul was animatedly shaking his head.

"We are Nephilim," he was insisting. "We fight our own battles."

"That's not precisely true, is it?" Magnus asked in a disappointed tone. "You lot have used the help of warlock's more than once in the past, and paid handsomely for it too."

"I don't remember anyone inviting you into the City of Glass in the first place, Magnus Bane," the Consul said venomously.

"They didn't," Magnus replied silkily. "Your Wards are down."

"Really?" The Consul asked sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed."

Magnus looked concerned. "That's terrible. Someone should have told you." He glanced at Jace. "Tell him the Wards are down."

Jace let out an exasperated breath. "I don't think you should be rejecting any sort of help you can get at this point, Consul."

The Consul looked ready to reply, but to everyone's surprise Inquisitor Herondale cut in. "The boy has a point, Malachi. Valentine has taken down our defenses and he has the Soul Sword, demons could enter the city in overwhelming numbers at his command at any moment. Are you saying you believe he won't attack?"

Jace seemed more surprised than anyone that the Inquisitor was being reasonable. She'd done nothing but be hateful to them ever since before they'd even arrived in Idris. But her possible cooperation was still not good enough.

Yes, the wards were down, and yes Valentine's return was a horrible threat. But only their group of four truly knew along what lines Valentine's plan was laid out. They were also the only ones who knew about Clary and Sebastian and what they were capable of. They had come here knowing, however, that telling the Clave about immortal demonic Nephilim and raising Angels would be useless, no one in here would believe a word out of their mouths.

There was nothing they could say that would result in their leaders taking this situation as seriously as they should, so they were doing all they could to convince them that Valentine was an even greater problem than currently perceived. But there was no way it would be enough. This was why their chances of death were so high. But if the city was going to fall, then they wanted to die in its defense, preferably with all the help they could get. It was at least a small consultation that the Inquisitor was at least being a sensible woman. Unfortunately, her colleague was not being a sensible man.

"Please," the Consul answered. "The very suggestion that Nephilim need downworlder help to defend ourselves is ludicrous. We have not been attacked yet, and we have handled Valentine in the past, we will do so again."

"Again," Magnus cut in. "Not precisely true."

The Consul fixed him with a cold glare. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a gasp that came from the fountain. Alec zeroed in on his sister immediately, and so did everyone else. But Isabelle didn't notice. She was no longer chatting with the fountain mermaid, but staring fixated at something towards the Hall's entrance. In unison, each occupant turned to see what had caused her reaction. Another several, more horrified, gasps rose as a result.

There had been a shimmering there that had become more defined as the seconds had passed. And now, Valentine was standing there. A hush went over the crowd that had been teeming just moments ago, and they all watched Valentine morbidly. His cold, black eyes seemed to fix on everyone and no one at once. He walked across the Hall towards the Inquisitor with righteousness in every movement, an air of superiority following him. He didn't stop in front of the Consul though, but moved instead towards the Dias, climbed the steps, and turned to face the crowd now below him.

"Some familiar faces," he observed. "Malachi. Patrick. Imogen."

Alec didn't need to glance at their faces to imagine the hatred there, it was the same hatred that was probably plain on his own. But he noticed the Inquisitor attempt to take an offensive step forward, and the Consul reaching out automatically to pull her back. Valentine smirked.

"Still wasting away on deluded dreams of vengeance, are we Imogen? So much so that you would imprison my love and persecute my children regardless of their innocence."

Imogen cut a glare towards Jace, Alec and Isabelle- Alec hadn't even noticed they were now standing by his side defiantly.

"We aren't your children," Isabelle spit. Alec reached out and put a hand firmly on her shoulder. Valentine acted as if she hadn't spoken, still focused solely on the Inquisitor.

"I suppose you are going to take credit for this?" She asked. "You brought down our Wards."

"So I did," Valentine answered simply. "And make no mistake, I will exploit your new found vulnerability. You can put them back up again as you please, but it won't make a difference. I can easily take them down again, and Alicante's inhabitants cannot hope to stand against the army I will conjure."

"You didn't come here to make threats," Magnus pointed out boldly, and Alec felt stronger in the face of his fearlessness.

Valentine's eyes narrowed and Alec took a step closer to his side.

"No I did not warlock," Valentine replied, "and your very presence here is enough indication of the problem at hand."

"The only problem here," interrupted Patrick Penhallow passionately, "is you. You cause death and destruction wherever you go, Valentine. You always have. Coming here and attempting to place blame on anyone else is utterly absurd."

Valentine gave him a cold look. "What is absurd is the Clave's willful blindness to its own faults. I do not enjoy causing the deaths of shadowhunters, there are precious few of us already, in a world that needs us desperately. But that's how the Clave likes it, isn't it? It's just another of their nonsensical rules, the rules they use to grind ordinary shadowhunters into the dust. I do what I do because I have to, because it is the only way to make the lot of you listen. Shadowhunters will not die because of me, they will die because the Clave continues to ignore me."

Valentine paused, his eyes sweeping the room. "Some of you here today were once in my Circle, or, at least, were no enemy to it. I speak to you now, to ask if you remember what I predicted those many years ago. That unless we acted against the Accords, the city of Alicante, our own precious capital, would be overrun by half-breeds, degenerates who would trample underfoot everything we hold dear. And just as I have predicted, all is coming to pass. Half-human scum welcomed into the city, presuming to lead you. And, if still you refuse to see reason, I will unleash an army beyond anything you could hope to overcome. And without your precious wards, which you believed invincible, to protect you, this city will fall. So I ask you, my friends, my enemies, my brothers under the Angel, do you believe me now?" His voice rose to a shout then. "DO YOU BELIEVE ME NOW?"

He gazed across the room as if he expected an answer, but all he received were blank stares.

"Valentine," Patrick finally said, breaking the silence. "Can't you see what you've done? Can't you see that the only one threatening this world is you?"

Magnus spoke then, before Alec could stop him. He admired his bravery, but his concern far outweighed it now.

"The Accords you hate did not make downworlders equal to Nephilim, they didn't assure us anything. All of your hatreds are still in place, but you did not trust that - were unable to - and now you have turned yourself into a common enemy to unite us."

Valentine's face flushed. "I am not an enemy of Nephilim. You are that. A walking immorality, attempting to entice the Angel's people into a hopeless fight. Do you believe you stand a chance against the force I can summon?"

"There are more of us," said the Inquisitor, "more Nephilim. And more downworlders." She glanced at Magnus at the last word, understanding passing between them. Alec was almost proud of the woman.

"Downworlders," Valentine sneered the word and focused again on Magnus. "All talk. You- all of you- will run at the first sign of true danger. Nephilim were bred to be warriors, to protect this world, but this world hates your kind. There is a reason you hide your markings, why pure silver burns lycanthropes and sunlight scorches the Night's Children. They are consequences of your monstrosities."

Magnus's jaw set, but Jace seemed to lose his composure. Alec had been a second away from doing so himself, but he still wished his parabatai had kept quiet.

"The only monster here is you," he shouted. "I saw Ithuriel. I know everything-"

But Valentine cut him off. "I doubt that, son," he said in a severe tone. "If you did, you would keep your mouth shut."

"I am not your son," Jace replied venomously, but Valentine only rolled his eyes.

"And what about my son?" Inquisitor Herondale asked in a bitter voice. "You took Stephen away from me, destroyed my family. You say you're not an enemy to Nephilim, but you set each of us against each other, family against family, wrecking our lives without a second thought. There was a time when many listened to you, believed you to be a great man, but no more. That time has long passed. Is there anyone here who disagrees with me?"

Alec looked around at the crowd, their faces pale and blank. He took in the face of Patrick Penhallow, his jaw set, and that of the Inquisitor, who stood with her shoulders back and malice in her eyes. The Consul, Malachi, stood at her side, his face strangely unreadable. No one said a word.

Alec was not surprised to find that Valentine was not angry about this. His face remained expressionless, as though he had expected this response. As though he had planned for it.

"Very well," he said, his voice carrying through the silent room. "You will not listen to reason, so you will have to listen to force. Your wards are useless to protect you, and you will either accede to my requirements or face every demon the Mortal Sword can summon. I will tell them not to spare a single one of you, not a man, woman, or child. It is your choice."

A murmur swept through the room. "You would deliberately destroy your own kind, Valentine?" Patrick Penhallow asked in horror.

"Some diseased plants must be culled to preserve the whole garden," he replied, "and if all are diseased ..." His gaze swept over the horrified crowd once more. "It is your choice. I have the Mortal Cup. If I must, I will start over with a new world of shadowhunters, created and taught by me. But I can give you this one chance, if you will submit to me, release my love, deliver our children-" his eyes indicated to Alec, Jace, and Isabelle last, "and sign over all the powers of the Council to me, I will stay my hand. Accept my unequivocal sovereignty and rule, swear an oath of obedience and accept a rune that binds each of you to me. These are my terms, and nothing else will save you."

It seemed for a time that no one was breathing. Alec himself felt rooted to the spot, weighed down by the horror of those around him. Only himself, Magnus, Jace, and Isabelle appeared collected. They were the only ones who had mentally readied themselves for something like this, Alec knew.

Valentine spoke his next words slowly. "I will give you until midnight this night to accept my terms. Nearly eighteen hours, which I do believe is generous. At that time I will bring my army, with all its force, to Brocelind Plain. If I have not received a surrender by that time, I will march with my army from there to Alicante, and we will leave nothing living. Use your time wisely."

And then he vanished.

Clary was in the stables, she had felt as though she were suffocating inside the cottage and was all too happy to oblige when Valentine insisted that she and Sebastian leave him alone. He didn't want an audience while he dished out his useless proclamations to the Clave, which was just as well to Clary. She felt she knew everything he was planning to say anyway. He would threaten them all with the prospect of no longer being shadowhunters, and use his holier-than-thou tone to convince them to submit willingly to him. Clary doubted very much that they would. The only thing that the Clave would ever bow to was a force stronger than theirs, which they doubtless believed not to exist.

Sebastian was sitting across from her, and she noticed just then that he was staring.

"Yes?" She asked, amused.

He smiled. "I was just thinking."

"About?" She prodded, scooting towards him to rest against his side.

"What all of this would be like, if you weren't you."

She sat back upright and looked up into his eyes, wondering. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, what if I was the demon, and you were like ... the angel?"

Clary tipped her head back and laughed. "I'd imagine I'd be sort of a drag. Or dead, which I have to say I'd prefer over being an angel-girl."

Sebastian's smile faded. "No," he said seriously. "I think I'd want you alive. This way or that, alive would be better."

She rolled her eyes and smiled before she kissed him. "Don't trouble yourself over things like that," she whispered before going back in for another kiss.

This time he deepened it, making it last. He was breathing heavier by the time he pulled away.

"You know... we probably have a while to be alone," he told her.

She smirked at him, and then, slowly, pulled the black tank top she was wearing over her head and flung it behind her somewhere. Sebastian huffed out a laugh and followed suit, and Clary placed her hands against his now bare chest before leaning in to kiss it. She trailed them down down and down, eventually having to unbuckle Sebastian's pants to continue her exploration.

She was low enough now for him to place his hands roughly in her hair while she elicited low noises from the back of his throat. She came back up and connected their mouths again, their kiss hungry and passionate.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he finally said to her.

She reached back and unclasped her bra, and Sebastian reached around her to pull her firmly into his lap as he felt her up. Clary relished in the way his body responded to hers, and soon every fabric between them was a distant memory.

The feeling of him was everywhere, and she felt like she couldn't get enough. She remembered their apartment, where they'd shared their first encounter like this one. She would never get tired of this, she'd known even then. There was nothing else that could make her feel so entirely herself, nothing that afforded a better kind of mutual-understanding. She loved him, all of him, and she couldn't care less what anyone else would think.

Finally, after what was both an eternity and not nearly a long enough time, they lay on the ground side by side. His fingers were messing with the stray strands of her violently red hair.

"Your eyes are back as they should be," he observed happily. She smiled.

"Noticed that did you? What can I say, I was tired of green."

He smirked down at her, still playing with her hair. "Black definitely suits you better," he said, earning a laugh from her.

She rolled back over onto his body then, quick as a bat, her black eyes alight with love and lust. But this kiss was interrupted this time, by a snarling sort of noise that originated in Clary's stomach.

She sat up above him, stunned, while he laughed almost like she'd never heard him laugh before. Nothing but pure amusement was present in it, and she couldn't help but smile despite her confusion.

"I didn't think I was very hungry," she admitted when he'd finished laughing.

His smile didn't fade. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

Clary blinked. "Um... I can't remember." She scowled and rolled off of him again, allowing him to sit up and reach for his pants.

"I'll go get us something from the cottage."

"You sure daddy dearest won't be angry if you interrupt his hologram time?" She asked.

Sebastian's eyes sparkled. "I don't plan to interrupt." And he winked, putting a finger to his lips.

He dressed quickly and disappeared, Clary cursing her need to eat all the while. She had expected, when he returned, that he would be smiling, perhaps holding an apple and throwing it repeatedly up in the air to catch it again. But when he did return, food was nowhere in sight, and his cheery mood from earlier had gone too. She sat up, glad she had already redressed, instantly alert.

"What's going on?" She demanded.

"We miscalculated."

He proceeded to tell Clary about what he'd heard inside the cottage, the tail end of whatever he'd been telling the Council apparently.

"Why?" Clary breathed. "I thought the Angel was supposed to take care of the Nephilim! Why would he send an army after a group that's going to die of their own Markings anyway?! It's a waste! He was supposed to send the demons after the Forsaken to clear them out! Taking the city first doesn't make any sense! Even he has spies in there, people on his side!"

Sebastian reached forward and grabbed Clary by both wrists. "I know Clary. I know," he sigh. "You know he isn't a reasonable man. But the army is the distraction he was talking about. I should have expected this, but I thought at the very least he'd give them more than eighteen hours."

"Midnight," Clary said in a distant tone. She took a breath. "Okay. That's enough time, easy. He can get out." They both knew she was talking about Simon.

"The army will only come if the Clave doesn't submit first," Sebastian told her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know they won't. They're too arrogant. They don't even know the half of what he's really planning."

"I know," her brother said, releasing her wrists but not bothering to step back.

"I'll tell him that he has until five o'clock to get the hell out of the city."

"Why five? Why not now?" Sebastian asked.

Clary released a heavy sigh. "Obviously I would prefer now. But he didn't stay to be our inside man, and you know that."

Sebastian nodded. "Isabelle," he shook his head. "Do you really think he can convince her?"

"He has until five o'clock to try," She said, and then she turned to go find a piece of paper for a fire message.

Simon had been lurking, observing the bustling crowd that had been barred from entering the Great Hall after about six am. Eventually they'd started to disperse, no longer interested in standing around and knowing they wouldn't be able to get inside anymore. But Simon had stuck around, waiting for Isabelle to come back out. It was nearly eight now, he thought.

Finally, a large bang was the indication of the Great Hall doors reopening, and a group of many shadowhunters came flooding out. They all looked pale and stricken, like they'd just seen a particularly nasty corpse. Simon never thought he'd see so many Nephilim looking afraid, and knew immediately that this had something to do with Valentine.

Finally he spotted Jace, his golden hair making him easily visible in the sunlight. Magnus Bane followed him out shortly after, Alec, of course, at his side. Isabelle came last. There was a bone-deep anger in her every step, it was easy for Simon to tell even from this distance. He waited several moments before following the group of four back into the city. The clothes had definitely been a good call by Clary. No one appeared to pay him much attention in his black shadowhunter gear. It was a good thing it was early, as people likely attributed the bags under his eyes as tiredness and his paleness as an indication of fear. This was the perfect crowd to keep easy cover in.

He observed that the entire way back to the Penhollows home Jace, Magnus, Alec, or Isabelle didn't appear to speak to each other at all. He was sure now, Valentine's plan had definitely begun. It was sooner than Simon expected it.

But what had all those shadowhunters looking so subdued and frightened? Had Valentine actually told them about the Angel, or had he just threatened their blood? Was there something that Simon hadn't been told? He was left alone with his wonderings as the group of four filed back into the house, and it was only shortly after that that Simon found himself holding a piece of paper with the answer to his private questions.

_V is sending demon army into the city at midnight. You'll be killed. Get out of there ASAP! S will find you in the forest by WM at 530 - C_

WM. Wayland Manor? That had to be it. But Simon couldn't say he even knew where that was. And then it hit him. Clary didn't expect him to be alone. She knew him too well, knew why he had really chosen to stay behind. Isabelle. Clary expected him to do exactly what he was doing to do: bring Isabelle with him. And he had until five o'clock to do it.


	76. Chapter 76

"I will not get on my knees and submit to the likes of Valentine Morgenstern!" Inquisitor Herondale shouted at her colleagues.

"Imogen please," said Patrick Penhallow. "We don't like this any more than you do., but you heard what Valentine said."

"Indeed I did, Patrick. I was standing right here, if you will recall. But I'm not sure you heard what I had to say. Mr. Bane gave us the solution. I cannot understand why we are all gathered around discussing actually giving this monster what he wants, instead of making calls to downworld leadership for help!"

"You believe that downworlders can stop Valentine?" The Consul asked incredulously, the first time he had spoken since they'd cleared the hall of everyone but Clave leadership.

"Not alone. But with Nephilim and downworlders working together, I believe Mr. Bane is right to think we can come out with our freedom intact!"

Multiple Council members scoffed at her then, but some nodded. The Consul looked at the silent ones in disbelief.

"Nephilim will die if we do not meet his demands!" He shouted.

"And Nephilim may as well die if we do! Sworn to him by an oath and a binding rune! We will never be able to focus on our mandate! Valentine is a deluded piece of scum and if we swear ourselves over to him there may as well be no hope left! I certainly would rather be dead!" Imogen hollered back.

She seemed to be receiving more and more support the more she spoke. Even Patrick Penhallow now looked as though he were considering her words.

"Perhaps," he began slowly, "a humble request for aid would be the better alternative..."

The Consul was looking as though he'd been betrayed. "All of you must want to die!" He replied. "You're acting like idiots! Go on, call on downworld! See how many are actually willing to send aid in the face of odds like these! Be my guest, but I won't stand around here like a sitting duck waiting for my death!"

"Go on then Malachi," Imogen spit. "Run along like the coward you clearly are. No one has tied you up and forced your compliance."

He gave her a withering look but nevertheless, he turned and immediately stormed out of the Great Hall, presumably on his way out of Alicante. Though no one could be entirely sure where he was going, no one paid it much mind.

Patrick Penhallow gazed into the faces of his brothers in arms. "That was somewhat tasteless," he admitted, which received an annoyed look from Imogen which he ignored. "You all should treat this as a genuine offer. If you are truly unwilling to stay and fight alongside downworlders to preserve this city, I do suggest you be on your way. Not that I think it will do you much good to run, but regardless. The option is there."

In the end, no one else took the opportunity. The Clave spent the remainder of the morning contacting downworlder representatives as well as more Nephilim from across the globe that had quick means of transport. It was Patrick who suggested calling Magnus Bane back to the hall, as he was best equipped to properly explain the situation to his fellow downworlders and enlist their help- despite the danger this would bring to them.

This went an especially long way with the vampire leader of the New York clan, Raphael Santiago, who Bane apparently shared a past with. A youthful looking boy for his position, it came as somewhat a surprise to Clave leadership that he was perhaps the hardest to sell. If Magnus had not been present, there was a nearly one hundred percent certainty that he would not have even listened. But once the boy was on board, however begrudgingly, he agreed to contact other clans throughout the States, who would have connections of their own. The Inquisitor herself contacted the well-known Lycanthrope organization, Praetor Lupus, which in turn contacted many packs across the globe.

Unfortunately, it proved impossible to contact faerie leadership, and it was only due to Isabelle Lightwood, through a very long old boyfriend, that they managed to enlist the help of a handful of Fae at all. By mid-afternoon, many downworlders were on their way to the shadowhunter capital, to the amazement of most of the city's inhabitants. Even the Council, who had refused Valentine's deal on this very hope, seemed somewhat shocked, though they did their best to appear confident.

Jace was not confident at all. He was amazed at Magnus, who managed to call so many downworlders to arms, knowing - unlike most everyone present - that this was exceptionally more dangerous than he could divulge. Jace thought Magnus must love Alec very much to be able to do such a thing under the guise of confidence. Though, of course, Jace was grateful. There was no way to know what would truly happen tonight, the horrors they could witness, but having an army of downworlders on their side might very well make all the difference. Or, at least, that's what he had to tell himself to stay sane like the others.

Isabelle, however, seemed calmer than almost everyone. Jace knew that Alec was concerned, but personally, he admired Isabelle's new attitude. She was more determined than ever to protect Alicante, so much that she behaved as though completely fearless. It was a drastic change from less than twenty four hours ago, when they'd all crashed out of Wayland manor and Isabelle had cried in the grass. This Isabelle was colder, prepared.

It was nearly four in the afternoon, however, that Isabelle stood up. They'd been back and forth between the Great Hall and the Penhallows all day, and she claimed that she just needed some space before hordes of downworlders showed up at the gates. And the amount of Shadowhunters that had been steadily flooding into the city was definitely suffocating.

No one tried to stop her as she made her way outside and disappeared.

Simon was getting frustrated. He'd been tailing Isabelle and the others through the streets and back again all day, and he had yet to get a good chance to talk to her. Everyone around him seemed to be in a frenzy, and no one gave him a second glance since downworlders had started to, oh so slowly, trickle into the city.

Simon couldn't believe they were actually showing up, and the mass of Nephilim around him that was steadily growing had him on edge despite their ignoring him. He wanted, no, based on the time he needed to get Isabelle alone. The clock was counting down.

He had nearly resigned himself to attempting to slip unnoticed into the Hall, which wouldn't have gone well at all, when luck finally greeted him. Isabelle strode out of the doors and parted through the crowd completely, blessedly, alone. Simon wasted no time at all in going after her.

It was only when he ended up in an alleyway between shadowhunter homes that was relatively secluded- especially for how packed Alicante was becoming- that it occurred to Simon that this might have been just slightly too easy. Isabelle was staring right at him the moment he poked his head around the corner.

Her face was suspicious, but also calculating.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice you stalking me all day?" She asked without hesitation.

Well, Simon thought that was harsh.

"Ouch," he replied.

"I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself to me personally. I think you owe me that much."

"Izzy," Simon tried to begin, taking a cautious step forward.

"Don't," she said. "None of that. I just want to know how involved you were. If ... if you knew the whole time that my father-" She broke off, but still looked at him expectantly as though she'd finished.

Simon's eyebrows furrowed despite himself. "Your father what?" He asked.

Isabelle scowled. "Did you know that that bitch killed him or not?" She demanded.

Simon blinked. "Who? Clary? I ..." He wasn't sure how to answer. This wasn't at all how he'd been expecting this conversation to go. "Clary's killed a lot of people," he finished lamely.

Isabelle's mouth popped open only fractionally, her eyes widened in outrage. "And you're just..." she had began in almost a whisper, but then she forced her voice to finish strong. "You're just alright with that?"

Simon searched for the words to be able to explain. But he could see in her eyes that she wasn't going to understand, not yet anyway. Because to Isabelle, death still mattered. Things like murder still mattered, and to Simon they did not. It was senseless, he knew now, to get caught up in things like that. Ninety-nine percent of humans were doomed anyway, dead soon enough. It meant less than nothing however many died along the way, especially Nephilim. Only those who were supposed to live mattered, and to Simon Isabelle was one of them. That was why he was here.

"It's more complicated than you realize Iz," he said at last.

"No actually," she bit back, "I don't think it is at all. I think that she's a filthy demon who murders people, and you just let her do it. What has she done to you huh?" She tried to hide the way her voice broke on the last words, but Simon caught it.

"You can't ... you don't get it," he tried. "It doesn't matter. This is the way that things have to be. The way they are going to be. You can't- you can't stop it now Izzy, and you shouldn't want to."

She was shaking her head, very slowly, back and forth. "What I don't understand, haven't been able to understand since I saw you walking away with her, is why you would support Valentine. _Valentine_, Simon. You're a vampire. He hates you, you've got to know that. You became scum to him the minute you turned, do you just not get that?"

Simon suddenly understood that this misunderstanding was the only reason Isabelle was here in front of him, giving him a chance - she claimed - to explain himself. It wasn't because she loved him, but because he was a vampire. Because she couldn't be sure what side he was on, that was all. He suddenly felt stung.

"Valentine's not an issue," he snapped before he could stop himself.

Isabelle, to his surprise, barked a laugh. "Not an issue huh?" She asked incredulously. "Is that what she's been telling you? He's her father Simon! And that boy, Sebastian whatever his Angel forsaken name is, is her brother. Her family, and that seems to mean something even to a sicko like her. You're insane to think she'd ever choose you, that she hasn't been using you."

Simon decided for a moment to humor her, to see if it could get him any closer. He took a careful step forward before he spoke. "And isn't that what you do?" He said tenderly. "Use me?"

Her eyes widened, her focus seemed to slip. "Why would you think that? I'm pretty damn sure I'm the only one that's ever been honest with you, and yet you are so blinded from worshipping her that you couldn't even see how much I loved you."

"Loved?" He repeated, taking another step that she didn't seem to pick up on, and another after that.

Her bottom lip trembled ever so subtlety. "I," she swallowed. "I don't know who you are. I still love you, but I don't know you."

"I'm the same me I've been for a long time Isabelle," he said as gently as possible, "Even before I turned, I chose this. I chose forever Iz. I want it with Clary, because I love her like family, but I also want it with you, because I love you so much. You have no idea. It's been tearing me in two how much I love you. And I've done everything I could to snuff it out, but it's impossible. I love you, I don't know how to not love you."

"Stop," she said quietly, closing her eyes. "You can't mean that. You chose to die... you can't know what love is."

He was standing in front of her now, and he reached out to take one of her hands in his. She didn't react to the cold, she just opened her eyes. Simon could see now that they were shining.

"I know exactly what love is," he whispered, still holding on to her hand. "Because against everything I've come to know and understand, against everything I've done, I still feel it when I look at you. I still can't let you go, and I remember every time I look at you how you looked all dressed in black when I first saw you, over the entrance to Faerie. You smiled, remember? Before you even knew me, when I was just some mundane."

Her eyes met his, he could see the brokenness in them that shown past even her strength. "I shouldn't of," she breathed. "If we've proven anything it's that I shouldn't of."

"Izzy..."

And Isabelle's control seemed to lapse, and suddenly she was kissing him. It was slow at first, agonizing, because neither could quite believe it was happening. But then it deepened, the both of them becoming lost in the feel of each other's lips, then tongues. The passion sparked, and neither one seemed able to stop. It had been a long time since they'd had a moment so honest. Finally, it was Isabelle who pulled away. "I want you back," she gasped brokenly.

"I'm right here," he said.

She shook her head, a tear trailing down each of her cheeks.

"Come with me, Iz," Simon said. "Let me protect you, we'll save you."

That had been the wrong thing to say. Isabelle pulled herself immediately out of his arms. "Come with you? Go to them?" She said the words like a joke. "You want me to what, join her?"

Simon huffed in exasperation. "Dammit Isabelle I want you to live!" He shouted.

She flinched. "If I do live," she spit, "it won't be with her." She sidestepped, presumably trying to get past him. Simon didn't allow it.

"Let me go," she said.

"I'm sorry Iz," he said, "but I can't let that be your answer."

She rolled her eyes. "Sim-" But she was cut off, because Simon had knocked her out. He winced when he did it, but any capability of guilt was long buried. He swung her limp body into his arms, and strode quietly away.


	77. Chapter 77

Isabelle's head was pounding practically the instant she surfaced into consciousness. It was all she could do to prevent herself from releasing a low groan of pain. It took her a second to remember what happened. And then her eyes snapped open, looking around for Simon.

He was sitting on the grass right next to her, though where they were Isabelle had no idea. The last thing she could recall was Simon, and he'd obviously knocked her out. Clearly he hadn't held back, since the blow to her head was still aching. She tried to ignore the emotional sting that came with that knowledge.

"Where are we? What did you do?" She demanded, sitting up and glaring at him.

She could still feel her seraph blade in her pocket, and wondered briefly why he wouldn't confiscate her weapons while she was unconscious. It was what anyone would have done. But she thought that Simon might doubt that she would hurt him. And she wouldn't. Would she? She pushed that thought aside, still waiting for an answer to her questions.

"In the forest, couple miles from Alicante. I need to get to Wayland Manor, but you were ... I had to wait for you to tell me where it is."

She blinked. "Why would you want to go there? And why would I help you with that?"

He looked over at her, and she could see the sadness flash across his features before he schooled them into careful patience.

"It's best for all involved if you just tell me where it is, Izzy."

She barked a sudden laugh, all of the exasperation leaking into that single sound. "All of us? Who exactly does that constitute to you, Simon?"

He just looked at her. There was such an impossible combination of emptiness and determination in his eyes that she fell silent at the sight of it.

She had asked him, a few minutes before he knocked her out, what had happened to him, what Clary had done to him. It was perhaps the most important question in her arsenal, and she'd wasted it in an attempt to wound him. How she could convey, now, that she truly needed that answer? Because it simply did not make any sense. No matter what he said, she knew that he had not always been like this. He had been innocent, fundamentally good. Trusting and loyal and loving.

And it was in that moment that she knew, as soon as that thought had come through her mind, what had truly happened.

Clary had not laid a finger on Simon Lewis. She'd not spent hours with him, hurting or brainwashing or beating him into submission. She hadn't had to do any of those things. Because of Simon himself. Because Simon was all those things, trusting and loyal and loving. And that trust and loyalty and love had already been Clary's for years- years and years.

The bitch hadn't had to lift a finger, all she'd had to do was turn her wide eyes on her childhood best friend and _explain_, and it had been over. It was obvious because that's what Simon was trying to do to Isabelle right now. He loved her, and she him. And because of Clary he thought that that would be enough to excuse all the terrible things he'd condoned and even done himself. He had put aside all the fundamentals of Isabelle life: her family, her deeply ingrained set of beliefs, her very blood, all in favor of the single fact that she loved him back.

And she did love him. But there was no way to explain that she did not love him enough for that, to be able to allow the world around them to become what the Morgensterns would have it be.

There was no way to explain that, because the fathomlessness of Simon's eyes revealed the truth: he was already there. Through his eyes he no longer saw the world as it was, but rather what he believed he knew was coming, and such a thing was irreversible. It was irreversible, because those very things that had made him everything she loved had been twisted so completely, that they were now all the very same things that had turned him into this. Someone who would see the world burn, see something so entirely wrong and believe it to be right.

When she finally spoke, her words were barely above a breath. "Simon," her voice broke even further on his name. "I can't save you from this."

She hated the truth of that statement as it left her lips, and always would. His eyebrows knit together, as if he had no idea what she could possibly mean.

"There's nothing I need saved from. I told you, it's me who has to save you Izzy. I can, all you have you to do is let me."

His voice was soft, as comforting as she could ever remember it being. This was Simon. And the real Simon, the one who was good and kind and innocent, he would understand why she had to do this. So she closed her eyes, absolutely refusing to allow the tears she felt to well up, and nodded.

She felt him shuffle to her and wrap her in his arms. She leaned into him, trying to memorize the feel of his chest and arms, his smell.

"_Gadreel_," she whispered.

"What?" He asked, but she just shook her head against his chest, trying to prolong the moment.

"So," he began gently, "where is Way-"

He never finished. Because the Seraph blade he hadn't thought he needed to take away from her sliced through his chest and into his heart. She pulled back just in time to see the image that would break her own heart until she was old and grey, lying in her bed and waiting for her own eyes to close without opening again. His eyes. Wide, so wide with shock. And the deepest, loveliest shade of brown. Before he was gone, forever.

Alec had been wondering where the hell Isabelle was for the last half hour. The last time he'd seen his sister was over an hour before that. This was not a good time for her to disappear. Himself, Magnus, and Jace were all so tense it was a wonder they hadn't snapped. Valentine's clock was winding down, there were downworlders they'd never met- well mostly, Magnus may know a fair few of them- everywhere, and this city was more exposed than it had ever been. Isabelle disappearing on top of that was slowly driving Alec out of his mind with anxiousness. Finally, when pacing and glancing through the crowd for a familiar head of black hair passed pointless and became insane, he walked back over to Jace.

"She wouldn't just go MIA right now," he hissed at his parabatai.

Jace wasn't looking at him, he didn't seem to be looking at anything. "I know," he replied. There was enough in those two words to suggest clearly where his thoughts had gone.

"Why would they take her?" He asked. It was really the only logical assumption. Why else would Izzy have vanished if the demon twins had nothing to do with it?

"Acting like they're sane enough to have reasons for what they do is just wasting time."

That was Magnus, ever wise of course. Jace nodded his agreement, still clearly thinking deeply. Abruptly, he turned and met Alec's eyes.

"I'll go after her."

"One," Alec held up a finger, "we have no idea where they've even gone, and two," another finger, "you shouldn't be going after them alone. Even you have to know you're not a match for both of them, Jace."

Jace gave him a dry look. "It's easy enough to track Isabelle. Just give me something of hers. And we really don't have any other options. We can't spare anyone else for a search party right now, protecting the city is too important. We can't just take Valentine at his word that he'll actually give the time he said he would, it's obvious by now to anyone paying attention that the Clave isn't going to fall to their knees and submit to him. He could attack at any given moment, and we can't all bail. I'm the best bet."

Alec looked at him for a long moment. A part of him was screaming in protest. His sister was already the Angel knew where, now his parabatai wanted to leave too? Surely this had to be some kind of bad dream. But he also couldn't deny Jace's point. The city needed every Nephilim at disposal to defend it, to show the downworlders all around them how to defend it. Also, head on, Jace probably wouldn't stand much of a chance against the demon twins, even with Alec at his side. Meaning that Jace's best bet was stealth, and for that Alec would only get in the way.

All this added to the unquestionable certainty that someone had to go after his sister made the decision all too clear. Jace had to go, and Alec had to stay. It felt like it took an impossibly long time, but Alec finally nodded.

"I'll go find something of Izzy's."

Isabelle had no idea how long she'd been sitting in the grass. At first she'd cried. Hard, aching sobs that had pierced through the air in a way that unsettled even herself. They had ripped out of her in heaves, her vision completely clouded over and useless, unable to hear anything but her own broken heart manifesting.

She hadn't cried that way in a long, long time. She could not even remember the last time, possibly it was never. Not even when her dad had died, because that had been a sort of gradual acceptance based on no confirmation. And then it was confirmed, and by then she'd already moved past it enough to dull some of the pain. Even when her mom practically confessed responsibility and was outed as Valentine's plaything, that hadn't tore through Isabelle like this. Because her relationship with her mother had always been somewhat strained, and shadowhunter women were not the most maternal batch these days. No. This was by far the worst emotional pain Isabelle could ever recall.

_Simon is gone._

She thought she must have somehow underestimated how much she loved him. She underestimated the biting guilt that clawed at her, despite every justification in the book. By the Angel, his _eyes_.

But eventually she had stopped crying, and the silence in the wake of that wailing had been deafening. She gave herself over to that silence, to that guilt, to that loss. She couldn't say how long she had stared forward, seeing nothing. There was nothing inside her anymore. Simon was gone.

Then had come the impossible, back breaking anger. Against the one person, besides herself, who was truly responsible. Because Simon had been dead long before she'd killed him, and that was on Clary Morgenstern. It was Clary that had ruined her, broken her in a way she couldn't afford to focus on just yet because she had other matters more important than her own fractured soul.

Like revenge.

But where to start she didn't know. The thought crept up on her then. Wayland Manor. Simon had said he wanted to go there. Was it possible that he simply did not yet know of its destruction? Or was there some other plan, Clary's plan?

There was only one way to find out. She stood up, her legs wobbling only a moment before she firmly shoved her grief to the very back of her mind. The last time she had had the gut instinct to go to Wayland Manor she, and Alec and Jace, had learned things they never would have guessed possible. It had worked out. Now her gut was insisting she go back, if only to be certain that nothing was truly left that she ought to know. Determined now, she strode off in the direction of the Manor.

Sebastian thought he should have known better than to assume that Simon would be perfectly on time, his precious Isabelle tied up neatly over his shoulder, but this was ridiculous. A half hour late? Surely the vampire was too strong to be persuaded by an ignorant shadowhuntress. At least he hoped, because Clary was not a patient woman.

Sebastian smiled lazily at the thought of his little sister, tapping her foot, her face the picture of irritation as she waited for himself and Simon to come. He knew that she was already somewhat weary of Simon bringing Isabelle long. The shadowhuntress was a wild card, and they didn't need that right now. Clary's emotional state certainly didn't need it.

Finally, there was the sound of footsteps approaching the side of the Manor. Or should he say the remains of the Manor? Sebastian had not even bothered to venture a guess what kind of shit went down here. The actual house itself was gone, the only evidence it had been there was a dented crater in the ground about the size of it. There was broken shards of glass in a few places, bits of a chair and other some-such signs of a struggle. But it didn't matter, because Wayland Manor was of no actual significance in the grand scheme of things.

The footsteps grew closer, and Sebastian frowned slightly at the realization that there was only one set. Perhaps Simon had chosen the smart path and left Isabelle behind after all. But when Sebastian stepped out of the cover of trees, he was met with the opposite sight.

Isabelle Lightwood was trudging up the short hill that used to lead to where the door was. Her hair was plastered to her head, and her eyes were red and puffy. As though ... as though she'd been crying. He was almost curious enough to stand back for a moment and watch her, to find out more details. But then he heard Clary's voice in his head, and it reminded him to stay on task. So, in a flash, he was standing directly in front of the dark haired shadowhuntress, who promptly yelped in alarm and stumbled backward a bit before regaining proper standing and glaring at him with venom that would do a viper proud.

He was sure she had some biting, useless insult prepared and cut her off before she could make it.

"Where is Simon?"

At that, her puffy eyes widened only slightly, and her bottom lip trembled for almost a complete three milliseconds. Then her features schooled into a careful sort of attempt at indifference, her chin coming up only slightly. In any other circumstances, he might have snorted.

But this was anything but funny. He gave her a moment of perfect silence and then he demanded, much more forcefully this time, that she tell him where Simon was.

Defiance burning in her eyes, face a mask, she said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Why would he be with me?"

Sebastian scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Because there's no way you decided to leave your dear Alicante at such a risky time as this on your own."

Her nose flared for a moment, the only real reaction he received. Still, she said nothing.

His patience evaporated.

He promptly grabbed her by her midnight hair and yanked until her face was close enough to feel his breath as he spoke.

"The only reason why you're still alive is because I know Simon gives a damn about you. That only goes so far with me. I want to kill you and, unless you start talking, I will. Now this is the last time I'm going to ask: where is Simon?"

For a second, Isabelle only stared, as if weighing the validity of what he said. Evidently, she decided that he meant what he said, because she muttered, "Gone."

"Gone?" He asked, his tone dangerously quiet.

She swallowed, and he realized the truth only a second before she finally said, "Dead."


	78. Chapter 78

Isabelle thought that Sebastian - Sebastian? Was it correct to call him that? It didn't matter. She thought he couldn't have looked angrier than if she'd just told him some other evil piece of shit just blew up the world before he could.

Her hair was still firmly locked in his grip, and his muscles hadn't so much as flexed since she'd been forced to spit that word.

Fury dominated his every atom, but it was his eyes that revealed more. He'd cared about Simon.

_Great._

She was beginning to wonder why he hadn't killed her yet when he finally spoke.

"How?" The word was a razor's edge.

Isabelle didn't so much as blink, but took a deep breath. One last time to experience something about the world before she was ripped to kingdom come. And then she answered.

"I did what I had to do."

Not a second later she was sailing through the air, the wind blasted from her lungs from where Sebastian had hit her to send her flying. She hit the ground on her back, pain rocketing up her spine in a way that almost caused her to black out. She saw stars dance in her vision as she struggled for a single breath. She barely had time to pull in a single pathetic wisp of air before he was on her again. He latched his hand around her ankle and flung her in the opposite direction. When she landed this time, she did black out. But only for about a second.

And then he was there again, this time kicking her so hard in her stomach that all she could do was twist on her side to spit blood.

Pain was screaming from every nerve ending, everywhere. Any minute she might go into shock.

It took her several long moments to recognize the hissing in her ear as his voice.

"- kill you you Lightwood piece of shit. That would be too easy. I'm gonna break your body first, and then my sister is gonna break your mind. You'll be lucky if we let you die."

Another punch came after that, directly to her cheek. She screamed as she felt her cheekbone crack. She hadn't even been aware that was possible. Vaguely, she felt herself cough up more blood.

She knew he was talking again, but this time she couldn't make it out over the pain in her skull. All there was was pain.

He jabbed something wicked sharp into her side, and she knew she screamed again but couldn't hear it.

He kept twisting the knife, cutting up whatever vital thing was in there. She didn't even want to guess what it was. He yanked the blade out.

A moment later its tip was cutting a straight line down her front, between her breasts and down her stomach, deep enough to draw blood but not deep enough to fully penetrate the muscle. Still, it was excruciating. But it brought her out of the blackness enough to hear what he was saying now.

"- with Simon right? Did he ever get some?" He asked maliciously, right before he viciously stabbed the area she knew her uterus to be located in.

Finally, her body decided to quit. She fell completely into nothingness.

"- wish she were lying, but you know that wouldn't make sense."

It took Isabelle a minute to remember what had happened, and when she did her breath hitched in her throat. It was Sebastian that was speaking, and she dared not open her eyes to see him.

"He can't be ..." A girl's voice. Clary. She sounded broken, desperation becoming despair.

Because Simon was dead. Isabelle pushed that thought forcefully away. It wasn't as hard as it had been, particularly because Isabelle had something much more pressing to focus on at the moment: the unfathomable pain that laced every breath she took in and put out. Sebastian had not healed her, and why would he?

There was a thumping noise, and stupidly - or perhaps something more like instinctively - Isabelle cracked open her eyes to see what it had been.

Clary was on the ground, her knees were what must have hit the floor a moment ago. Her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs and Sebastian was in front of her, body wrapped around her in a comforting gesture. Isabelle immediately shut her eyes again against the sight.

She focused instead on making her breathing even, on forcing her heart to stop galloping.

"I am going to smash her skull like an egg and rip her heart out with my teeth."

Clary's voice sounded much closer than she had been when Isabelle had opened her eyes a moment ago. The hairs on her neck stood on end the next time Clary spoke, right into her ear, "I am going to redefine torture in a way that would make my mother proud. And I'm not talking about Jocelyn Fairchild."

Clary knew she was awake, had probably known before Isabelle herself knew it. Not seeing the point anymore, Isabelle opened her eyes.

Clary glared at her, mere inches from her face. The expression on her face, the kind of evil young mundanes associate with Satan, made Isabelle's entire body tense. Her heart restarted its furious gallop.

Clary reached forward, slowly, and picked up one of Isabelle's hands. The demon girl inspected it, her touch gentle. She straightened Isabelle's fingers tenderly, as though she were trying to comfort her in some creepy ritualistic way. And despite every single cell in her body buzzing in anxious warning, Isabelle still found herself slightly surprised when Clary whipped out a previously unnoticed blade and imbedded the tip deep underneath Isabelle's fingernail.

Jace stood, once again, at the grounds of Wayland Manor. The wreckage had not been touched, as everything was in the same place he, Alec, and Isabelle had left it. He was more than confused. Why would Isabelle have been brought back here? He thought maybe they wanted answers about what happened and thought Isabelle would give them. But what would be the reason? There was nothing special about this place. At least not anymore.

He took a deep breath, once again focusing on the task at hand: find Isabelle. She'd been back here, the tracking was working.

Clary loved the sound of Isabelle Lightwood's screams. It had only taken her about ten minutes to decide that. She couldn't believe she'd ever listened to Isabelle talk and thought it comforting. It was nothing compared to this.

The rest of the girl was completely limp. She was naked, stripped of anything that might act as a barrier between her and what Clary did. There was no comfort in the world left for Isabelle, and Clary was gleeful about it. She sliced and cut and tore Isabelle apart, not with great shows of strength or anything of the sort. Instead, she hurt her in careful ways. Ways that were gruesome without being over the top.

Every single one of Isabelle's perfect fingernails now lay in a bloody pile on the floor. Each of her joints were now popped out of socket somehow, so that she couldn't move even if she were able. And criss cross patterns of cuts were on practically every surface of the girl's skin. It was not about the size or depth of the cut, it was about the blood.

Clary felt Sebastian's shadow behind her, watching the display with as much rapt attention as she was giving. She'd succeeded in making Simon mean something to him, they'd become friends. And then this Nephilim filth in front of her had killed -

She lost her cool for a moment, jabbing the knife into an already festering wound near her nether regions, earning a particularly forceful scream. Clary shot Sebastian a wicked smile over her shoulder, as to say _nice touch_. He smirked back.

And then the moment was ruined.

A door opened somewhere, and the sound of footsteps approaching echoed through the room. Clary felt a scowl set on her face just as her father entered.

"What in-" the older man had begun, but cut off as soon as he took in the room before him. For all his bluster and status among the Nephilim as their greatest threat, Valentine didn't appear like much of a war lord just then. In fact: he looked horrified. Complete disbelief flashed through his eyes before he composed himself.

"What is the meaning of this?" His voice was cold as ice, and Clary glared back in defiance to it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sebastian's mind working over time for a way to diffuse the situation.

"This isn't any of your business," Clary spit back.

Valentine's scowl hardened, his jaw flexing.

"Put down that primitive weapon and step away from the girl, Seraphina."

Two breaths came and went before Clary decided that risking everything just to torture Isabelle Lightwood was not worth it. She set the knife on the ground beside Isabelle and stood up, taking three steps backwards.

Valentine came closer, his gaze falling on Isabelle finally. Recognition finally dawned on his face and he turned to face Clary incredulously.

"What have you done?" He demanded, voice booming with anger.

It was obvious to Clary what he was seeing: a younger version of his beloved bloody and writhing on the floor, beaten to a pulp and looking dead. Clary tried to keep the smugness off her own face and only partially succeeded. The smallest of smirks played across her lips almost without her permission.

Then Valentine backhanded her.

There was a shout, obviously from Sebastian. Clary whipped her head back into place, disbelief fading into anger. She had barely moved forward a fraction of an inch before Sebastian was there, a careful hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. She cut him a glare, wanting to demand how he could allow this. But the answer was clear in his eyes: _be patient_, they said, _if all goes as it should he will be dead soon enough and we will have what we want. Just a little while longer._

She nodded in a way only perceptible to him and he relaxed just a fraction. Valentine, oblivious to the entire interaction, was still looking on in cold fury.

"Fix her," he ordered Sebastian, leaving no room for debate and no question what he meant.

Sebastian kept all expression from his face as he knelt down with a stele and began drawing iratz after iratz on the Lightwood's skin. It was all Clary could do to keep still and allow it. Valentine stared down at her.

"You will not touch my and Mayrse's daughter again. When she is healed and dressed it will be time to set off. She will accompany myself and your brother to Lake Lyn."

Clary already knew what her orders were, and she couldn't wait to get her hands on that Sword, especially because her hands were already capable of demonic control. In her hands, only Lilith knew what it might be capable of. Perhaps the Nephilim could be annihilated within an hour. She kept all these thoughts from manifesting in her eyes and merely nodded. What did it matter to her if Isabelle Lightwood got to live a while longer? She would be dead soon enough, just like all the rest of them. For herself and Sebastian, and for Simon. She nodded at her father, and he turned and strode out of the room.

The pain was fading, that was the first clear thought Isabelle had had in awhile. Sense of time and position were finally returning to her, and that was almost more shocking than the pain itself. She had thought that it would never end.

Finally seeing clearly, she noticed Sebastian knelt over her. The stele he was holding was making various Marks on her. It took her a moment to make the connection between this and the receding pain, and then her mouth opened in an _o _of confusion. She couldn't comprehend why he would be healing her. Of course, some of this damage may never truly heal right, but that was entirely beside the point.

Isabelle steeled herself a moment before she looked up into Clary's glaring face. Her teeth were pulled back in a particularly nasty sneer. Oh she wasn't happy, not happy at all. Her play time had probably been ruined, but Isabelle couldn't recall how despite being obviously present for it. All she could remember was the pain.

Now she could feel the runes stitching up what it could of the damage. Her nail-beds stopped screaming something awful. The gashes below her abdomen and in her sides were slowly closing, repairing themselves as best they could. The pounding in her head was turning slowly into only a dull thud. All the while she lay perfectly still, not wanting to jeopardize whatever reason there was for this, even though everything inside her was telling her it was too good to be true. What would be better to a couple of fucked up demon teens than to torture, fix, and torture anew. It would practically be wash rinse and repeat for them. Still, she couldn't help her relief, even if it was only for the moment.

"Don't get any ideas, you bitch," Clary hissed. "We may have orders, but one wrong move and I'll gut you like the animal you are and damn the consequences."

Isabelle had no doubt she meant it and smartly chose not to respond. _Orders_. Orders could only come from one place with these two: Valentine. And the only reason for that would be ... Well. Isabelle was shocked, Valentine must actually give a damn about her mother in return after all. Not that that was a particularly comforting thought at virtually any other time, but right now she would take anything. The pain would not return.

After what felt like eternity, Isabelle felt almost back to herself. She carefully sat up and avoided both sets of black eyes that she could feel resting on her. Isabelle silently took the gear she had came in, ruined as it was now, and put it on before lapsing back into stillness. The three of them sat in complete silence for what must have been at least a half hour, and the hatred in the air she knew to be directed toward her was almost palpable. The feeling was mutual.

Finally, Valentine entered the room. Isabelle couldn't help but stare at him, wide eyed. All the horror stories she'd heard over the years about him, true or not true, came back to her now. How was it that this man, this sick bastard who had ruined her life and destroyed her family, lied and stolen and murdered for his own gain, was the only thing standing between her and death by demon twin torture? The world could be a fucked up place, but then she already knew that.

As if to prove it, Valentine glided across the room and placed something long and wicked looking onto Clary's upturned palms. Isabelle watched in morbid fascination as a smile unmatched by any sort of evil Isabelle had ever seen or experienced spread across the demon girl's face. If Valentine saw it, he didn't comment, only eyed his son.

"Come," he said. Then he turned away again and walked out. Soundlessly, both his demon children followed after him. Clary with the Mortal Sword, and Sebastian dragging Isabelle behind him by her still semi-sore elbow.

Jace stared down at the small pile of nails on the floor. Blood was stained everywhere, and he could practically see the outline of a body in it. A body about Isabelle's height.

He had known before he had entered that no one was home anymore, and that had been upsetting. He was moving too slow, and he couldn't seem to catch up. But staring at the awful pile of Isabelle's nails, the splotches of her blood and the knife that had obviously done a lot of damage sitting casually on the floor beside it all nearly undid him.

He was glad he had insisted Alec not come along, his parabatai wouldn't have been able to stomach this, much less keep his head.

Jace had to be faster. He had to find Isabelle before it was too late, and he thought it might very well already be by the looks of things.

He pushed that down and away, closing his eyes and once again focusing on the tracking.


	79. Chapter 79

It felt to Clary as though the Soul Sword enjoyed being in her hands. She knew that for Shadowhunters, the Sword was an unpleasant thing to hold. During trials it was meant to pull the harsh truth through your very skin. But now its allegiance was demonic, and Clary was - after all - a demon. The Sword seemed a living thing, and it very much liked her. A demon with the ability to wield it. A demon who already possessed the power to call the demonic, now in possession of the most powerful amplifier imaginable. She didn't blame the Sword at all for being happy where it was, she was all to happy to carry it.

But Clary kept noticing, out of the corner of her eye, how Sebastian's gaze seemed to flicker over to Isabelle approximately every ten seconds. It was killing her mood. The shadowhunter girl walked silently, eyes on the ground, expression blank, taking no notice of the demon boy shooting looks at her at her side.

"Quit," Clary hissed at him, low, so as not to earn their father's unnecessary attention.

He looked up at her, eyebrows drawing together in question.

"Quit staring at her," she elaborated.

For a moment his gaze remained confused, but then a small smirk made its way onto his lips and his eyebrows raised mockingly.

"Jealous, really Clary?" He mouthed.

Clary rolled her eyes at him, unwilling to confirm the truth.

Sebastian picked up speed, carelessly grabbing and shoving Isabelle forward to walk some distance in front of them and falling in step with Clary.

"You know I could never want her," he said, low enough so only she could hear. Then he frowned. "I'm looking at her because it's too easy."

She raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly confused.

"We've had Isabelle for hours. How likely is it that no one is looking for her?"

Ah, she realized. Not very likely at all. Someone was looking for Isabelle now, if they hadn't already been the whole time.

"That could be a problem," she stated.

Sebastian nodded. "Father is going to take her to the Lake. She will lead her would-be rescuer right to him, possibly before you are to bring the Sword back to him. Possibly after he orders us away again."

"Well what are we supposed to do about it? Do you know how to prevent tracking?" She questioned, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

For a moment he just blinked, and then his eyes became contemplative. His gaze dropped to the Sword in her grasp.

"The Soul Sword seems to like our company," he commented meaningfully.

"What?" She asked, a little surprised because she had been thinking the same thing just minutes before. But she didn't see what it had to do with anything.

He still stared at the ancient weapon as they walked. He spoke very slowly, as if testing out whether his own words made sense as he said them. "The Nephilim have no idea of the power it holds. They use it for glorified Court proceedings. Now its allegiance is changed, and it's practically thrumming in your hands. I can feel it just being beside you."

"And?" She prodded, curious now.

He met her eyes finally. "I think- I wonder if it would not eagerly comply to our wishes."

Her eyes suddenly cleared, it was obvious she understood. "You want to ... speak to it?"

He nodded, slowly, as though he were still unsure. "I think we should ask it if it has any ideas."

The demon twins didn't seem to realize that their voices had grown louder as they walked and talked. Not loud enough for Valentine to hear them as he walked briskly ahead of Isabelle, but certainly with enough volume for Isabelle herself to catch on to what they were saying. The Mortal Sword, help them? It had to be some sort of sick joke. It was impossible that the Sword was sentient in any case, she told herself. There was simply no way that a weapon, even that one, was alive in any way. But, now that it had been said as a possibility, she couldn't quite convince herself that it wasn't true. She'd heard too many a tale of Nephilim claiming the Sword seemed to be revel in pulling truth from them. She had never thought anything of it, but now she couldn't help but wonder what kind of inanimate object revels in anything. The answer: animate ones. _Shit_, she thought. _Shit shit shit_. But she could do nothing but continue to walk silently, waiting for their voices to pick up again.

She sneaked a glance over her shoulder after about five minutes. Clary and Sebastian walked in silence, eyes locked on the Sword held tightly in Clary's hands. So tightly, in fact, that the sharp sides cut into one of Clary's palms and was drawing blood. Clary didn't seem to notice, neither did Sebastian. Isabelle was beginning to be very nervous.

Isabelle was listening so intently that she noticed the smallest of sounds finally eliminate from Clary's throat. There was triumph in that sound, and the hairs on Isabelle's neck stood at attention. She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her, trying prevent her pace from quickening as a result of fear.

And then something pricked her back. For a moment, it was the sting of a papercut, and then it was so much worse. She was forced to stop walking, her entire body stilled completely. She could not even move her eyes. She felt something being pulled from her, painfully. Not truth, because she couldn't speak. Just a nameless something that lived beneath her skin. Her mind involuntarily labeled it: essence. Her essence was being pulled from her, out through the place where the Sword cut into her back. Sebastian grabbed her at the exact moment that her strength failed, swinging her to hang limply in his arms and stare at the sky at an odd angle while they kept moving. She doubted that Valentine would even turn around to notice what was going on, she could hear his footsteps continuing ahead. Oblivious or uncaring, it made no difference.

The pain was worse than taking Sebastian's beating at Wayland Manor. Worse even than Clary torturing her earlier. Worse than anything she'd ever felt.

Then it was over, and she felt ... a peculiar hollowness. She felt like Isabelle Lightwood, but not. All at once. Like some fire inside her had flickered out. Or, really, been taken out. And perhaps replaced with something she could not yet attempt to name.

Sebastian held her at arm's length, as though disgusted he had to carry her at all. Which she knew was ridiculous, he'd obviously had to do it more than once today. She certainly hadn't walked anywhere from Wayland Manor herself. But she didn't- couldn't say any of this. She could only sway silently in his arms, testing that empty feeling. She realized, with a jolt, that she no longer felt afraid. Because, well, what would they do to her? Her body was only a vessel. It could handle pain. And death? What was death but a permanent sort of philosophical emptiness? And she already knew that emptiness. It was this.

So Isabelle was devoid of fear. At peace in the knowledge that these demons could no longer reach her. She would either stop them, for the sake of her brothers and Jace and for her dead father, her dead boyfriend. Or she would die. And either way, it would be alright.

She hardly noticed when she lost consciousness.

The nervous energy was positively everywhere. It surrounded Alec, was present in the way that the Nephilim and downworlders alike held themselves as they waited. It was present in the faces of his leaders, that awful anxiousness that said _could I have truly made the right choice? _It was in the very air and underneath Alec's skin, increasing so steadily that it was possible he may be able to reach out and touch it once the night truly set in.

But it could not be helped. So he stood, his shoulder to Magnus's - the only comfort there was left in Alec's world at the moment, and he watched as the setting sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, painting it many beautiful shades that grew increasingly darker the lower that sun went.

Alec waited, tense as all these other bodies around him, for Valentine's demons to come.

Jace was close, he knew he had to be. He thought at any moment he may here Isabelle's voice, shouting for him or for Alec or for anyone to help her. He thought this only because he knew it was naive to pray that she would not be in any pain. The sun was setting, and he forcefully pushed the worry for Alec and Magnus and for his city aside. Isabelle, his focus had to be on Isabelle.

But she was not who he discovered. No. Where Isabelle should have been - where he knew she should have been because the magic he was using to track her was still telling him so even though he could plainly see it was wrong - stood Clary.

He was, a few hundred feet away and in the shadows that the sinking sun lent him, only able to identify her by her shock of wind-tossed red hair and petite stature. And in her grasp was the Mortal Sword.

She stood on the grass a few feet from a several-hundred-foot-tall cliff face. She was in the shadow that it produced, focused intently on the ground, walking in slow circular motions and seemed to be setting something up.

He knew he should leave. Isabelle was nowhere in sight, and knowing now the kind of darkness that the red haired demon girl in front of him possessed, he assumed that she had found some way to prevent Izzy from being found. That should not be possible, but many things that Valentine had done and created should not have been possible. Including Clary herself.

Jace knew he should turn, go before she looked up and saw him, but he didn't. If Isabelle was lost and somehow beyond him, then perhaps this opportunity was the next best thing. So he stayed, and he watched as Clary stuck to her task. The Soul Sword never once left her grasp.

Then, when there was only a sliver of sunlight left in the sky, Clary disappeared. Well, not truly. She simply appeared to have slipped into the cliff face before him. Jace realized that if he let her out of sight, she could go anywhere, and leaving his city and his parabatai behind in it to fend for himself was all for nothing. So he came out from his shadows and made his way cautiously toward where he had last observed Clary.

He came to an opening in the rock. Not a cave, simply a wide crevice. Large enough for probably three people to stand in back to back. He went in, assuming he might not need light - as the remaining daylight had almost drained entirely by now- if he could continue using whatever magic thought it was still following Isabelle to follow Clary instead. About twenty feet in, he was thinking that maybe this was a shortcut of some kind, that Clary had used it to go off to wherever it was demon girls had to be on a night like this. That was when he heard her voice.

"_Jacccccccce_." She sounded like a very pleased snake, like she imagined a snake would sound if it were to sing. Her voice somehow echoed off the rocks that surrounded him, making him feel trapped in it. Trying to intimidate him. He decided it wouldn't work.

"Looking for precious Isabelle are we?" She sang, and then laughed. Fully, as though that were the most ridiculous thing she ever heard.

"You sound cheery for someone hiding in the dark!" He shouted at her, no way to know how far into the dark she was.

And suddenly she was right in front of him. She wasn't, and then some time during his next blink, her face was inches from his own.

He could not fathom how he ever believed her smile was a beautiful thing. The act of her pulling her lips to reveal her teeth was nothing but pure malice, grotesque in its completion. Terrible. He wished she was farther away, so that it would be too dark to see it.

"Cute," she chided. "Expected, though, of course. The _hero _always says something like that." She cleared her throat and then shouted sarcastically into the wind above them, "_Come out and face me you coward_!" And then her eyes and that terrible smile were back on him. "But that's not true is it? The hero says that because he is the coward, because he is afraid that without the advantage of sight, he is vulnerable."

It was not true, but he would not give her the pleasure of responding. Instead he said, "Was it all a game then?" He immediately wanted to slap himself, he could not figure out why he had asked that. He should have asked where Isabelle was, not that he believed she would give him that answer. But it had been the right question, and his had been the wrong one.

Impossibly, her smile widened. It became even more gruesome a sight as a result. "Of course," she replied, as though he were a child that had asked if the leaves would be green again in spring. "As if you could ever be my brother."

He blinked. "Before that," he found himself saying. "When we..."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that I didn't stutter," she said, clearing understanding perfectly what he meant.

Jace's stomach rolled. "You're with him," he stated. It was not a question, and she didn't give an answer. Her uncannily dark eyes danced.

"Don't presume to understated me and mine, Jace Herondale."

That brought him back to the present. "What?"

She laughed, another deeply disturbing sound. "Oh has no one had the family talk with you yet? What have you been calling yourself as of late? Not Morgenstern, no. You don't deserve my name. And not Lightwood. Too proud to make that request, I bet. Too afraid they'd reject you like the orphan boy you've always been? Well look no further. Herondale. Last of your line and all, all alone. Mommy killed herself with you still in her belly, I do believe. Probably died thinking you would go with her, and you'd both be with poor dead Daddy Stephen again."

She did an awful thing where she put both hands to her cheeks. "Oh wait!" She screeched joyously. "Not the last! No no, your grandmama is still very much alive. Lovely Inquisitor _Imogen_." She said the name like a curse, and then spat upon the ground between them. "She's back in Alicante, stupidly geared up with the lot of them to defend their doomed city. But no matter. They'll all die soon, and then you will be alone, because you were not there to protect them and instead here with me. Whining about how I _lied _to you and hurt your wee _feelings_."

There was nothing in his heart but the desire to kill this thing in front of him. A human face, but behind it was nothing human at all.

"What were you doing, out there in the grass?" He questioned.

Another laugh. "Nothing at all," she answered. "I was waiting around, and then I heard you coming. Had to give you a show, make sure you stuck around for the real thing."

The darkness surrounding him had, as though inspired by her voice, become a living thing. He could feel it in the air, seeming to come from below them where they stood. He counted his heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev-

And then the Mortal Sword appeared in her hands. Where it had been before that Jace had no idea. Or perhaps she'd always been holding it, and he had just forgotten and not noticed until it was between them.

It was pitch black now, the faint glow emanating from the Sword was the only light, and the only reason he could even make out her face or her silhouette.

Before he could even make a move to stop her, before he could even release a shout from his closed throat, she jammed the Sword into the stone below them.

For a single moment, nothing happened. And then, almost as though in slow motion, the moment exploded.

Great cracks appeared in the stone, outwards from where the Sword had pierced it. They grew across the space, becoming deep and wide enough to fall into them, and onto and upwards the walls around them. And from them, things - no not things, he realized, demons - erupted outwards. Tens and then hundreds whipping past him, knocking him down with their force.

It was as though she had broken the proverbial hornets' nest, and now they burst forth. More demons, of shapes and sizes unknown, then Jace had ever seen or thought he would see in his lifetime.

He made no move to rise, they wouldn't have let him. They nearly suffocated him in their act of emerging and rushing to evacuate. And in the middle of it all was Clary's high-pitched, continuous scream of pure delight. As though this was her roller coaster and she planned to ride it all night long. It was such a horrific backdrop of sound to the event that Jace marveled at how he had not thrown up.

And just as soon as it started, it was over. She turned to look at him where he laid on the cold rock ground, and her face was otherworldly in its wickedness.

"And now, Jace Herondale," she said joyfully, "you will be alone."


	80. Chapter 80

The sun had gone down. Everyone around Alec had held their breath. Waiting, the uncertainty and anxiety crackling through the air. Two minutes. Then five minutes. Then ten. No one relaxed, everyone was tense.

The vampires had joined them, stepping out of the shadows that had shielded them since they arrived. Alec wondered vaguely, in the quiet of his mind, how they had gotten here with the sun up anyway. Then he remembered the warlock by his side, and decided the how wasn't important. The other warlocks were practically fizzling, their power just barely held beneath their outermost layer of skin.

The werewolves stood shoulder to shoulder in groups - no, packs. The small number of faeries that had shown themselves were perfectly still, wearing their false calm like armor. No one was buying it.

Alec counted his breaths. Two minutes. Then five minutes. Then ten.

Then they came.

Jace thought he might be numb. He had yet to get back on to his feet. He could only stare at the sky, the place that the legion of demons had disappeared. Clary was still smiling, her words echoed through his mind. He would be alone. And the worst, he believed her. He knew that his people were strong, that they would fight with everything, every ounce of strength they had. And for their lives, their allies would do the same. But they were outnumbered. More outnumbered then they could have contemplated, then they could ever have had the power to predict. There was no chance of victory, there was only how long they could last. Minutes, hours possibly, but it wouldn't be enough.

He finally turned his eyes to Clary again. He had almost no options left. There was no saving the ones he'd left behind. But there was still this. He prepared himself to leap at her, she had not taken his weapons. But he didn't get the chance before a whistle rang through the night. Low, appreciative. Jace's stomach turned to lead.

"Woah, now did you see that? I expected a lot but, that exceeded even my expectations!" The voice was laughing, beyond pleased.

Clary's smile became feline as she turned around. How could she know what direction he was coming from? It was pitch black and the voice seemed to be reverberating from everywhere. Could her senses be that good?

When Sebastian stepped into their small circle of dim light, Jace decided that yes, they were that good. He came from exactly the direction she'd been looking.

"You should have been here to see it, I think Herondale almost pissed himself." Clary's words were joyful.

Sebastian- or Jonathan, whatever - tipped his head back and laughed. In a space like this, it was booming.

"Yeah, well, can't expect daddy dearest to carry sleeping beauty himself can we?"

Jace couldn't decide if the hint of scorn he'd detected in those words was really there, or just a trick of the imagination.

"Where is she?" Jace demanded.

Both siblings looked at him. Sebastian blinked. "Valentine likes an audience."

"And you wouldn't do?"

Sebastian smiled, but it could also have just as easily been called a scowl. "I actually may very well be in attendance."

He reached out towards Clary, and she lay the Mortal Sword in his hands.

"Hurry back to me," she told him. And to Jace's revulsion, went on to her tiptoes and kissed him, full on the mouth. It was not a quick kiss.

Sebastian flashed him a sickening grin when he pulled away, as if he knew exactly what Jace was thinking. And then he disappeared, Sword in tow.

"Oh don't bother with that face," Clary quipped at him after watching her brother leave.

He made no move to change his expression. She was now alone, down one extremely powerful weapon. This was his best chance, but he had to try to catch her off guard.

"Why not go with him?" He asked, it wasn't hard to sound genuinely curious.

She grimaced. "I don't have much of a desire to see Raziel."

Jace barked a harsh laugh. "Afraid of angels?"

Clary was in his face in a flash. "Only a fool is not afraid of angels."

Jace gave her a lazy grin. "Sure, but I doubt being a demonic piece of shit helps much."

She slapped him.

Jace had been slapped before in his life. By women, mainly. And many, many times at that. But this slap was not like any of those. Jace hadn't even been aware it was possible to slap someone so hard. A few seconds later, he spit out a tooth.

Clary was close enough now for him to feel her breath on his face. "You think that the Angel favors you? That any angels favor you? That they would help you? You're an idealistic idiot. Those angels that you revere and idolize and name your precious weapons after are looking on, right at this very moment, as your beloved Alicante is bathed in blood."

Jace didn't have anything to say to that. His stomach rolled, thinking of streets running with red. He knew Alec was still alive, for now. But he dreaded the moment when he would feel the Mark burn, the connection cut. His jaw tightened.

Clary turned away. "Now, what to be done with you?" She asked of herself, observing him for a few moments. But there was something in her expression that stopped Jace short. She was pretending, he realized. The question was pretense, meant to play with him. Jace knew before she even said anything that she wouldn't - or probably more like couldn't - kill him. At least not yet.

"As much as I want you dead, Herondale, you live to breathe a while longer."

Then she tied him up.

About twenty minutes later, Sebastian was sulking. He felt like an errand boy. Carry Isabelle to the Lake like a pack mule, go make sure _Seraphina _had done her job, bring the Sword back, go check on Alicante. What did it matter what state the Shadowhunter Capital was in? What did it matter how many survivors there might end up being? It was the most transparent excuse in the world to keep Sebastian out of the Angel's sight. Not that he wanted to see Raziel, but it was the principal.

He was the most successful thing his father had ever created, and yet the fool was ashamed of him. Valentine's crimes against angel kind were probably beyond number, and yet Sebastian's very presence would bring more shame than he could allow? It was pathetic. And now he had him running off like a good little foot soldier to find out if it was possible to keep beloved Maryse's other stupid son alive. The shadowhunter boy was probably already dead, Sebastian hoped so at least.

But Valentine was still living and breathing, and this was the whole purpose of everything Sebastian and Clary had done. Best not to make waves. So he trudged off towards Alicante like he'd been told.

It was almost impossible for Magnus to even comprehend where he was. He had lived a very, very long life, but a part of him felt as though he had known only this for an eternity. Blood. There was so much blood. Everywhere he looked was a dark red on black smeared canvas. The night air smelled like iron and salt.

The vampires had lost control of themselves. He'd watched for the first while, when the demons had first appeared, he'd watched them try to help. Try to fight. But then the Nephilim started dying in overwhelming numbers, unbelievably fast, and blood seemed to cover every surface. And some had lost control. He could see from where he was standing, wherever that was, a vampire knelt down over a fallen Nephilim, drinking like it was impossible for him to stop. Magnus thought it probably was. It was a frenzy. There was simply too much blood.

The vampire didn't even notice when an unnamed sort of demon snuck up on him, and the poor bastard died on the spot. His bright, shiny blood was added to the mix.

Magnus ran.

He had lost track of Alexander, who had been right next to him up until he wasn't. Magnus blatantly refused to consider that Alec may be anything but alive and perfectly fine.

He was grateful for his amazing night vision, it was the only thing that kept him from tripping over bodies. That helped him see the demons before they saw him. He felt like a coward, but there was no other options. Magnus had never before imagined that there could possibly be this many demons. And in the same place? Some incredibly dark power had to of been at work to draw them all, and to control them all no less. Some incredibly dark power and then some. So he used his vision, and he hid, and he searched for a head of black hair on a frame he would know anywhere.

He'd never felt this way before. He thought he might be out of his mind, afraid that anybody he passed might - no. He cut off that thought before it could cross his mind. He just went on running.

The first thing that Isabelle Lightwood was aware of was sand. She felt it against her cheek before she had even opened her eyes. The next was the sound of water, the gentle sloshing noise that one would expect from a great body of it. Slowly, she managed to open her eyes. She was, as predicted, on the shore of Lake Lyn. Her wrists were bound together with a faint band of glowing light, and her legs felt heavy and strange, prickling all over. The back of her neck burned as though a wasp had stung her, and her skull still rang with pain where they must have knocked her unconscious. Again. She released a breath of frustration at that.

As best she could, she heaved herself into a sitting position, legs stretching awkwardly out in front of her, and observed her surroundings. A black wall of rock rose behind her, the cliffs somehow a deeper black than the night. The sand beneath her was dark as well, glittering with silver. Here and there in the sand were witchlight torches, adding a silvery glow to the air and leaving a tracery of glowing lines across the lake's surface.

By the shore a few feet from where she sat stood a low table made out of flat stones piled one on the other. It was thrown together haphazardly, as though whoever had done it hadn't had much time to do so. Placed on the surface was the Mortal Cup, and laid crossways atop it was the Mortal Sword. And if it was here, that meant that whatever Clary had been so excited to use it for had already been done. She ignored the twisting in her heart as she stared at the two most powerful objects of the Shadowhunter world, as they had been taken and abused. She knew inexplicably, as she now understood many things, that they - the objects - were very offended by this. The Sword in particular seemed to be screaming incomprehensible demands in her direction. She needed to think, she needed to focus. She allowed the unnamable emptiness, the Sword's gift, she realized, to calm her.

Around the altar were black lines of runes carved into the sand. She could not make them out very well in the dark, but she thought, knew, that if she just got a closer -

A shadow cut across the sand, moving fast. It was the long shadow of a man, made wavering and indistinct by the flickering torchlight. By the time Isabelle had turned her head, he was already standing over her.

Valentine.

Isabelle only blinked up at him. He was covered in weapons, as any warrior type would be expected to be. She couldn't seem to recall what he'd been wearing earlier.

"You're awake," he pointed out.

Isabelle opened her mouth, probably to say something like _well, I wouldn't miss whatever this is for the world. _But no sound came out of her mouth. She raised her brows at him in question.

His lips quirked up at the sides. "Don't bother trying to speak. I used a Rune of Silence, the type that the Silent Brothers use, on the back of your neck. There's a binding rune on your wrists as well, as you can see. And another disabling your legs, so I wouldn't bother attempting to stand up. You could hurt yourself, and then your mother wouldn't be very happy with me."

Isabelle just stared at him, not feeling anything. There was no point. Even if she got angry and tried to show it, it wouldn't make a difference. He sigh and turned back to his altar, placing his hands on the Soul Sword. She wondered idly if he could feel the way it hated him. Probably not, she decided. She remembered Clary and Sebastian talking in their hushed voices just feet behind her, thinking that the Sword loved them. That it was willing to help them. The Sword was a brilliant liar. Valentine was likely to believe the same as his children. But she could feel it, the anger coming off of it. It mirrored her own ten fold. It had been turned into something perverse, and it was deeply offended by it. It was of angels, expected a certain type of respect, and it had been turned into a demonic thing.

"For the first time," Valentine said, interrupting her thoughts, "I am grateful that Maryse is locked away. Safe below that city where my legion should be unable to lay a hand on her."

Isabelle's stomach tied into knots. Where were Jace and Alec, were they safe? Valentine claimed to care about Maryse, did that mean he would keep them alive for her sake? Were his feelings for her even real? Isabelle desperately needed the answers, but she was bound.

"I know you think I am a monster, Isabelle," he told her. "But I am only a man, and I want the best for my people."

She wanted to laugh in his face suddenly, to tell him that he sure had a funny way of showing his love for his people if his idea of doing so was sending demons to slaughter them all. She refused to contemplate just how many demons he had sent.

"Sometimes the only way to fix things is to start from scratch, you understand. Alicante may fall, but some will survive. Those Nephilim who did not answer the cowardly call of their corrupt leaders will also be given the opportunity to accept me without bloodshed. And with the Cup no longer hidden away, we will grow back our numbers easily."

Isabelle did nothing, she gave him no indication that she was even still listening. Still, he went on.

"You will be happy in the new world, Isabelle. You and your mother will be reunited. My son and daughter will protect you from any foolish enemies. And we will rid the world of downworlder scum and demons alike, as Nephilim always should have. Everything I have done is for the best."

Isabelle turned her head away from him, her disgust at his words finally too great to keep a reaction at bay.

"Isabelle," he said. "Look at me."

She stared at the lake, thinking only of her family. Not of her mother, but of the family that had never betrayed her. Alec and Jace. And Max, safe and far away from all of this. How long could she keep Max safe in a world like the one Valentine described? Of course, that was given that he would stick to what he promised and not kill her.

Valentine gave another sigh. This one was slightly wistful. "You look just like her, you know that? Just like Maryse did back when she was your age. Only your eyes are different."

Isabelle looked up at him, wanting him to see those eyes now. The eyes that apparently separated her from her traitorous mother. He gave a small smile, thinking she'd looked at him like he'd requested. Thinking she was being cooperative.

"Good," he said, picking up the Soul Sword. "I'm going to raise the Angel now. And I'd like you to watch as it happens."

Isabelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. Her mother was locked away and he hadn't yet bothered to go release her, hadn't made time. And since Maryse couldn't be here to witness him getting everything he'd wanted - everything they'd apparently wanted together - he would make do with Isabelle.

Suddenly, he took her arm - the other coming up with it because of the bind - and sliced it with the Sword. Her blood dripped onto the dark steel, and she felt the Sword protest along with her. It hated what was happening. She wondered if she should feel afraid to be so connected to such a powerful weapon, afraid of the connection the demon twins had unwittingly helped form. But she wasn't, couldn't be. It was almost a comfort, in fact, to know that the Sword was as disgusted by all of this as she was.

"Blood is needed to complete this ceremony," Valentine told her conversationally. "I intended to use my own, but then I decided to bring you along for this and well, it seemed perfect. Almost as though Raziel is telling me to use your blood. You are my daughter now, after all, you should help to bring this about."

She only gave him an incredulous look, but she didn't attempt to speak again. Satisfied, Valentine turned from her. Isabelle's eyes immediately focused back on to the altar, on the runes surrounding it. Valentine was no longer paying attention to her, so she used her bound wrists to scoot closer to them, just close enough to see.

They were beginning to glow. They were runes of naming, and of binding. They were not unlike the runes that had kept Ithuriel imprisoned beneath Wayland Manor. Only at the time, she had not been able to understand them in the way Jace had. Now, though, she could. A part of the Soul Sword's gift to her, it had given her the means to correct things. It had given an understanding so profound that it did not have a name. And now she was to use it.

Valentine was dipping the bloody Sword - her blood - over and over in the water of the lake now, chanting low and fast. The water of the lake was rippling, as if a giant hand were stroking its fingers lightly across the surface.

Isabelle knew she had to act quickly. She lowered her body so that she was lying against the ground, heaving her dead legs behind her. Slowly, she crawled across the sand, pushing herself along with her knees and bound hands. The glowing band around her wrists burned and stung, she was thankful that they'd put her back in her torn gear. Sweat ran down her back, between her shoulder blades. When she finally reached the circle of runes, she was panting so loudly she was amazed that Valentine hadn't heard her.

But he hadn't even turned around. He had the Mortal Cup in one hand the Sword in the other. As she watched, he drew his right hand back, spoke some words in what sounded like Greek, and threw the Cup. It shown like a falling star as it hurtled toward the water of the Lake and vanished beneath the surface with a faint splash.

The circle of runes was giving off a faint heat, like a partly banked fire. And that was the moment when Isabelle realized the problem: she had no stele. They'd taken everything from her. She wondered if it was possible to do what she needed to do without one. She looked down at the runes, worry starting to creep into her thoughts. She could feel them on her face; they had begun to shimmer.

She couldn't say, in the end, what told her to do it anyway. It might have been her connection to the Soul Sword. It might have been the Angel himself. It might have been any number of things. But she simply knew.

The used the tip of her forefinger to trace over the runes Valentine had drawn, right over the one that she knew to be for his name. It was both shocking and somehow not shocking at all that it worked, her finger drawing appearing as though it had been drawn by a stele. It was a miracle, it should have been impossible. But there it was.

She looked over just in time to see Valentine chant the last words of a summoning spell, and then toss the Sword into the lake after the Cup.

Spent, Isabelle rolled onto her side just as the Soul Sword hit the water. A great plume went up from the place where it had splashed down, a flowering of platinum water. The plume rose higher and higher, a geyser of molten silver, like rain falling upward. There was an impossibly loud crashing noise, the sound of shattering ice, a glacier breaking - and then the lake seemed to blow apart, silver water exploding upward like a reverse hailstorm.

And rising with the hailstorm came the Angel. Isabelle was not sure was she had expected - something like Ithuriel, maybe. But Ithuriel had been diminished by many years of captivity and torment. This was an Angel in the full force of his glory. As he rose from the water, her eyes began to burn as though she were watching a sunrise.

Valentine's hands had fallen to his sides. He was gazing upward with a rapt expression, a man watching his greatest dream become reality. "Raziel," he breathed.

The Angel continued to rise, as if the lake were sinking away, revealing a great column of marble at its center. First his head emerged from the water, streaming hair like chains of silver and gold. Then shoulders, white as stone, and then a bare torso - and Isabelle could see that the Angel was Marked all over with runes just like the Nephilim were, although Raziel's runes were golden and alive, moving across his white skin like sparks flying from a fire. Somehow, at the same time, the Angel was both enormous and no bigger than a man: Isabelle's eyes hurt trying to take him all in, and yet he was all that she could see. As he rose, wings burst from his back and opened wide across the lake, and they were golden too, and feathered, and set into each feather was a single golden staring eye.

It was beautiful, and also terrifying. Isabelle wanted to look away, but she wouldn't. She would watch it all, because she needed to know how this would end. For her brothers, for Jace, and for her people.

She realized that it looked just like all the pictures. The Angel rising from the Lake, the Sword in one hand, the Cup in the other. Both were streaming water, but Raziel was dry as bone, wings undampened. His feet rested, white and bare, on the surface of the lake, stirring its waters into small ripples of movements. His face, beautiful and inhuman, gazed down at Valentine.

And then he spoke.

His voice was like a cry and a shout and like music all at once. It contained no words, yet was totally comprehensible. The force of his breath nearly knocked Valentine backward; he dug the heels of his boots into the sand, his head tilted back as if he were walking against a gale. Isabelle felt the wind of the Angel's breath pass over her: It was hot like air escaping a furnace, and smelled of strange spices.

_It has been a thousand years since I was last summoned to this place,_ Raziel said. _Jonathan Shadowhunter called on me then, and begged me to mix my blood with the blood of mortal men in a Cup and create a race of warriors who would rid this world of demon kind. I did all that he asked and told him I would do no more. Why do you summon me now, Nephilim?_

Valentine's voice was eager. "A thousand years have passed, Glorious One, but demonkind are still here."

_What is that to me? A thousand years for an Angel pass between one blink of an eye and another._

"The Nephilim you created were a great race of men. For many years they valiantly battled to rid this plane of demon taint. But they have failed due to weakness and corruption in their ranks. I intend to return them to their former glory -"

_Glory?_ The Angel sounded faintly curious, as if the word were strange to him. _Glory_ _belongs_ _to_ _God_ _alone_.

Valentine didn't waver. "The Clave as the first Nephilim created it exists no more. They have allied themselves with Downworlders, the demon-tainted nonhumans who infest this world like fleas on the carcass of a rat. It is my intention to cleanse this world, to destroy every Downworlder along with every demon -"

_Demons do not possess souls. But as for the creatures you speak of, the Children of Moon, Night, Lilith, and Faerie, all are souled. It seems that your rules as to what does and does not constitute as human beings are stricter than our own. _Isabelle could have sworn the Angel's voice had taken on a dry tone. _Do you intend to challenge heaven like the other Morning Star who's name you bear, Shadowhunter?_

"Not to challenge heaven, no, Lord Raziel. To ally myself with heaven -"

_In a war of your making? We are heaven, Shadowhunter. We do not fight in your mundane battles._

When Valentine spoke again, he sounded almost hurt. "Lord Raziel. Surely you would not have allowed such a thing as a ritual by which you might be summoned to exist if you did not intend to be summoned. We Nephilim are your children. We need your guidance."

_Guidance_? Now the Angel sounded amused. _That hardly seems to be why you brought me here. You seek rather your own renown._

"Renown?" Valentine echoed hoarsely. "I have given everything for this cause. My love. My children. I have given everything I have for this - everything."

The Angel simply hovered, gazing down at Valentine with his weird, inhuman eyes. His wings moved in slow, undeliberate motions, like the passage of clouds across the sky. At least he said, _God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son on an altar much like this one, to see who Abraham loved more, Isaac or God. But no one asked you to turn your children into monsters, Valentine._

Valentine flinched, then he swallowed. "If I must, I will compel this from you. But I'd rather have your willing cooperation."

_When Jonathan Shadowhunter summoned me, _said the Angel, _I gave him my assistance because I could see that his dream of a world free of demons was a true one. He imagined a heaven on this earth. But you dream only of your own glory, and you do not love heaven. My brother Ithuriel can attest to that._

Valentine blanched. "But-"

_Did you think that I would not know? _The Angel smiled. It was the most terrible smile Isabelle had ever seen. _It is true that the master of the circle you have drawn can compel from me a single action. But you are not that master._

Valentine stared. "My Lord Raziel- there is no one else-"

_But there is, _said the Angel. _There is Isabelle Lightwood._

Valentine whirled. Isabelle, lying half-conscious in the sand, her wrists and arms a screaming agony, stared defiantly back. For a moment their eyes met, and he looked at her - really looked at her, and it was the first time that this man had likely ever looked at someone in the face and seen them. The first and only time.

"Isabelle," he said. "What have you done?"

Isabelle said nothing, only looked on as Valentine went bone white. He turned slowly to face the Angel, raising his hands in a gesture of supplication. "My Lord Raziel-"

The Angel opened his mouth and spat. Or at least, that was how it seemed to Isabelle - that the Angel spat, and what came from his mouth was a shooting spark of white fire, like a burning arrow. The arrow flew straight and true across the water and buried itself in Valentine's chest. Or maybe _burrowed _was the wrong word - it tore through him, like a rock through paper, leaving a smoking hole the size of a fist. For a moment, Isabelle, staring up, could look through Valentine's chest and at the lake and the fiery glow of the Angel beyond.

The moment passed. Like a felled tree, Valentine crashed to the ground and lay still- his mouth still open in a silent cry, blind eyes fixed forever in a last look of incredulous betrayal.

_That was the justice of heaven. I trust that you are not dismayed._

Isabelle looked up. The Angel hovered over her, like a tower of white flame, blotting out the sky. His hands were empty, the Mortal Cup and Sword lay by the shore of the Lake. She could feel that the Sword had been once again changed, or rather, restored. Its contentment was obvious to her even from this distance. It was pleased with her, she had done exactly what it had wanted her to do.

_You can compel me one action, Isabelle Lightwood. What is it that you want?_

Isabelle opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

_Ah yes, _the Angel said, and there was gentleness in his voice now. _The rune. _The many eyes of his wings blinked. Something brushed over her. It was soft, softer than silk or any other cloth, softer than a whisper or the brush of a feather. It was what she imagined clouds would feel like if they had texture. A faint scent came with the touch - a pleasant scent, heady and sweet.

The pain vanished from her wrists. No longer together, her hands fell to her aides. The stinging at her neck was gone too, and the heaviness from her legs. She struggled to her knees.

_The battle in your city is ending. The Soul Sword was used as an amplifier for the daughter of Lilith's abilities, and that has ceased with its restoration to the Light. A great many of your brothers in arms have fallen, but your loved ones live. One of them seeks you at this very moment. If you have a request, Shadowhunter, speak it now. And remember that I am not a genie. Choose your desire wisely._

Isabelle hesitated. What was it that she wanted? She wanted so many things. She wanted back the lives that had been lost in her city while she was carted away. She wanted her mother's love and loyalty to have been to her instead of that awful man. She wanted her father to be alive. She wanted Simon to be alive, and to be human and good as he once was. She wanted so very much. But that was not the right question, she realized. It was not about what she wanted. It was about what she needed, or rather, what the world needed. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what that was. But Isabelle could not directly ask an Angel of heaven to take life. It would be more than wrong, but she could do the next best thing.

"I want a weapon," she said, "a weapon capable of killing the Morgenstern siblings permanently."

Perhaps it was her imagination, or her exhaustion, but she could have sworn she saw the barest hint of pride in the Angel's strange eyes.

_Very well. Close your eyes Isabelle Lightwood._

Isabelle did as she was told. Seconds passed, minutes. Finally, she chanced opening her eyes. The Angel was gone, the brightness having gone with him. The Cup and the Sword still sat a distance away on the shore. But on the sand at her feet were two identical daggers. They were Marked in a way Isabelle had never seen before, and she picked them up at once. These weapons were the key. The key to vengeance, the key to justice. And this time those were the same thing.

**10 minutes previous**

Alec was amazed that he was still alive. He was covered head to toe in dark red blood, though he was certain it was not his own. He had lost Magnus, and he was barreling through the streets, frantically chanting to himself that Magnus was fine. Even as he passed by dead body after dead body, some of them quite obviously warlocks, he never stopped telling himself that Magnus was alive. There was no way that he was harmed, there just wasn't.

But one could not be surrounded by danger and avoid it forever. Where seconds before there was nothing, there was suddenly a demon. It was not a demon that Alec could identify from any books. Not from the Codex or any other, and there was no running from it.

Alec was perfectly aware that he did not have any more weapons. He'd taken out a good amount of demons when things had begun, but it hadn't been anywhere near enough. Now he had nothing but his bare hands. He was going to die.

It was all he could do to keep his eyes wide open and stay standing. But then the demon stilled completely, its horrific mouth went slack, and it fell spasming to the ground. It had not even been touched. He glanced around for an explanation, and that was when he saw him.

Sebastian.

The demon boy winked at him and played deliberately with his fingers. Alec was disgusted that someone could have such a power. That something like that could exist. It went against all natural law. But he was also supremely confused as to why Sebastian would have saved him.

The boy strode up to him, kicking bodies and completely unconcerned with the violence and carnage going on around them. He was smiling wide, but there was something pained behind the expression as he stopped several demons from coming toward them in just the span of those few seconds. Sebastian began talking as soon as he was in earshot.

"We're basically stepbrothers," he explained, trying to sound easygoing. "I've been ordered to keep you alive."

Alec couldn't stop himself from baring his teeth at him. "We aren't anything to each other."

"Now, now," said the other boy, "that's no way to talk to someone who saved your life like, four times in the last two minutes. Is it?"

"You think because-"

"Alexander!"

Alec's head whipped around, Sebastian sigh dramatically. Magnus was running towards him, relief and fear battling for dominance on his face.

As soon as Magnus reached him, he put his hands on either side of Alec's face. "You're alive," he breathed. And then he kissed him. It was hard and fast, filled with nothing but relief.

"As cute as this is," Sebastian interrupted sarcastically.

Magnus was immediately in his face, threatening him with all the magic in his arsenal.

Sebastian held up his hands placatingly, but his trademark disdainful smirk didn't fade. "First of all," he said, "you can't kill me. You'll just piss me off. And second, I'm not going to kill him. I'm here to keep him from getting killed obviously, or he'd be dead. Eventually I'm supposed to go down and free his mommy, but that's later."

Alec's expression didn't change, but Magnus's eyebrows had risen practically to his hairline. "Why?"

"Daddy's orders," Sebastian practically spit the words, somehow keeping a grin on his face while he did it.

"Somehow I doubt-" But Magnus didn't finish. Something in the atmosphere had shifted. It took them several seconds longer than it should have to identify it: silence. The screaming that had been so constant that it had faded into background noise had somehow ceased.

For a moment, the three men just looked at each other. Then they looked around. A minute went by without a demon in sight, then two minutes. Three. They all knew suddenly, the demons were gone.

Alec and Magnus exchanged disbelieving glances of impossible hope, but when they looked at Sebastian, they schooled their features again. They had no idea what this meant, but judging by the horror not completely concealed on Sebastian's face, he had some idea.

"Clary," he finally rasped. Then he practically vanished.


	81. Chapter 81

Sebastian was moving at the speed of a bullet. He tore out of the city, running fast enough to send wind through tree branches, barreling towards the place where he had last seen Clary. She had been in that cave with Herondale. What had happened to her? Because something must have happened. Those demons were hers, they were under her control. There was no reason that they should have vanished, unless she had been harmed. If Herondale had harmed her, he decided, Sebastian would shred him limb from limb.

Even running at his impossible speed, a speed he had not ever had need nor space to truly use, it still took him a handful of minutes to reach the cave. When he did, he nearly collapsed on weak knees.

It was still pitch black, but Clary had looked up at him immediately, startled.

"What are you doing back?" She asked, curious. She was totally fine. Sebastian might have weeped with relief.

"The demons, they all bailed. Dammit, Clary I thought-"

"What the hell do you mean they bailed?!" She said, springing to her feet in an almost cartoonish manner. He couldn't resist grinning at her, despite everything.

"What's up with you?" She asked, her brows pulled together in her special combination of fury and bewilderment.

He didn't answer, just strolled toward her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her deeply. They were both breathless by the time she pulled away.

"What was that for?" She asked, her voice considerably lighter.

"I didn't know what happened to you," he told her. "There was no reason they should have been gone unless you were somehow-" He cut himself off and swallowed, cutting a glance at Herondale.

Clary surprised him by tipping her head back and laughing. It was a full, deep laugh that Sebastian thought he would never get tired of hearing. "You thought," she gasped for breath, "that this wimp could have -what? Taken me out? I would just wake up three minutes later and tear his head from his body, you know that."

He couldn't stop grinning at her. "I know but, well, the demons."

Her amused look faded at the reminder. "Right," she said. "I didn't even know anything happened. I don't feel any different, at least."

Sebastian looked behind Clary toward Jace. "What about you, Herondale. Got an explanation for this?"

Jace clearly couldn't see him. He was squinting like an idiot and scowling, but he apparently still had his nerve. "Your day of reckoning has come?" he tried.

Clary rolled her eyes. "He's been with me the entire time. He couldn't know anything," she told Sebastian.

Sebastian looked at her for a second, and then pulled her in for another searing kiss. He couldn't get those few uncertain minutes out of his mind. She was the one to have to pull away- again.

"As much as I'd love to do that forever," she said, "we should probably go get some answers."

He looked behind her at the other boy again, who was still blind and squinting in the dark.

"We have to bring him with us, don't we?" He asked, resigned.

Clary looked sour about it, but she nodded. Sebastian walked past her, grabbed Jace by his hair and heaved him up. "On your feet, Herondale. Places to go."

Alec and Magnus walked through the city hand in hand, terrified to lose sight of each other again. Neither quite believed it was really over yet, not without proof. It was like walking through a cemetery, it was so unsettlingly quiet.

And the bodies, they were everywhere. Everywhere there was to look was a body. A dead Nephilim, a dead vampire, a dead faerie, a dead warlock. Alec held on to Magnus's hand a bit tighter.

"All these people," Alec breathed. The squelch of blood beneath their shoes was the only sound. He knew without stopping that no one they passed was still alive.

Finally, he pulled himself together. Or as together as he could be. His parabatai Mark was still in tact, so Jace was alive somewhere. And now there was nothing for Alec to do but go to him, to help find his sister. He hoped that she'd already been found.

"I have to-" The words got stuck in his throat for a moment. "I have to go find them."

He didn't need to elaborate, Magnus just nodded. For the moment, they left Alicante and its bodies behind. Alec pushed down his undefinable grief to be dealt with later, once he knew for certain that his family was safe.

Isabelle wasn't exactly sure what to do with the Cup or the Sword. Who was she supposed to bring them back to? Raziel had said that many of her people were dead, just how high were the death tolls? Were any of her leaders still alive, anyone who knew where these objects belonged? She didn't know and she was a little terrified to find out.

She walked slowly through the woods, Cup in one hand, Sword in the other, the Demon Daggers chaffing against her ankles, respectively.

She was about a mile from the shore of the lake when she heard voices, and she immediately ducked to hide. Even from several hundred feet away, she would know Clary's head of blood red hair anywhere. It had gotten darker over the course of time she'd known her, though she hadn't realized it might be a symptom of everything wrong with her until recently.

Walking beside Clary, his head still dyed a dark black from pretending to be a Verlac, was Sebastian. But behind them, being trailed along by glowing ropes, was Jace.

Isabelle longed to run over and ambush them with her Daggers and save him, but she knew she couldn't. She was still weakened by the day's events, and she had to return the Mortal Cup and Sword to the city. But most importantly, if she was to save Jace, she needed help as well. She hoped that someone had been left alive to provide it. Silently, she slipped deeper into the woods.

"Come on, Herondale, walk," Clary chastised as she pulled him along. Jace wanted to kill her so badly he could hardly think about anything else. The bands around his wrists were tight enough to draw blood, and they had done just that in the time it had taken to get here from the cave.

"Should we untie him before we get there? I don't feel like hearing Valentine whine about how we're mistreating the family favorite," Clary complained to Sebastian.

Jace rolled his eyes. It was becoming brighter outside, he noted. No, he realized that it wasn't just a few moments later, when he saw the first witchlight torch. And beyond it, Lake Lyn. There were more lights the closer they came, and they added a silvery glow to the water.

"Yeah that's probably b-" Sebastian cut off sharply, and Jace, almost involuntarily, whipped his head towards the demon boy to find the cause. Sebastian's eyes were fixed on some point ahead of them that Jace couldn't yet see, even when he followed his gaze directly. He noticed Clary's jaw drop open with a faintly audible pop.

And then Clary yanked on his ropes, hard, as both she and Sebastian took off towards whatever they'd seen. It wasn't long, maybe about twenty feet, before Jace saw it too.

No, not it. Him.

Valentine.

Valentine Morgenstern lay on his back, his eyes wide open and staring in a look of utter shock, mixed with something like betrayal. There was a gaping, two-fist-wide hole in his chest where his heart had clearly been. His two children, or creations, stared down at him with unfathomable looks on their faces.

And then, after what seemed an eon, Clary looked up at Jace. The look in her eyes was not what he'd been expecting. No grief, no pain for a lost parent. No, in her eyes was freedom.

She had just been unleashed.

Jace Herondale barely had time to feel any fear before she had reached out and punched her fist clean through his chest, and his world went black for the final time.

Magnus thought that even the woods were in mourning. He had never, in his many lifetimes, seen so much death. Alec walked beside him silently, and Magnus was grateful for Alec's vice-like grip on his hand. It meant that he was still here, still solid, still breathing. So many had died, and against all sense and reason the one he loved was still alive.

It was at the precise moment that he had thought this that Alec's hand slacked in his, and he collapsed to his knees.

He gasped in lungfuls of air, as though someone had shot him.

And then he vomited, spasming violently as he did so and after. Magnus knew, without having to ask, what had just happened. It had happened to someone he had loved in the past.

Alec's hands clutched his chest, and he clawed away his shadowhunter gear almost desperately, revealing a bleeding rune just over his heart. The rune faded from black to silver before Magnus's eyes as Alec stared down at it in a horror so great Magnus might have looked away if it had been anyone else.

Minutes passed in silence, but they felt like days. Magnus had sat down next to Alec, not knowing what else to do.

"Alexander."

It seemed he hadn't heard him, which was unsurprising.

"Alexander," he tried again. "Alec."

Finally, finally Alec looked up at him. He blinked, as though dazed. Like he thought he might be coming awake from a nightmare. Magnus wished it were so.

"You have a sister, Alec."

Alec blinked, but made no other movement.

"Your sister might still be alive."

Alec took in a harsh breath at that. It was too soon, Magnus decided. Reality had not had its time to set in, but they didn't have time to let it.

"Alexander."

"Okay," Alec finally forced out. It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough. He'd heard him.

Magnus slowly got to his feet, and he held his hand out to Alec to help him up. For a prolonged moment, Alec only stared at it. But at last he placed his own hand in it and allowed Magnus to pull him to his feet.

Magnus hoped, perhaps more than he had ever hoped for anything, that Isabelle Lightwood was still alive somewhere. Because if she wasn't, he didn't think it was possible for Alec to be saved from this.

"I almost wish I'd savored that," Clary said as Jace's dead body fell to the ground. His heart had rolled a little ways away, and Clary noted the dent in the organ with pride.

"There's no _almost _about it," Sebastian chastised. Then he looked back down at their dead father and released an aggrieved sigh. "God I wish I had let the Lightwood boy die now."

Clary smirked, but then it faded into a scowl. "Speaking of Lightwoods," she said. "I assume this is probably Isabelle's doing."

Sebastian breathed out loudly, and he turned towards the altar that was set up a few feet away. He stared at the ground beneath it for a few moments.

"It's clear how she did it," he said at last. Clary walked over to stand beside him, studying the runes herself. "But I can't understand how she knew to change it like that. Or where she even got a stele."

"Does it matter?" Clary asked finally. "Obviously Ol' Val didn't get what he wanted from Raziel. However she did it, she fucked us over all the same."

"At least we don't have to kill him ourselves," Sebastian made the words sound like a consolation prize. To Clary it was anything but. She'd had to put up with her father for what felt like an eternity, and in the end he hadn't even managed the one thing they'd actually needed him to do. She would have been overjoyed to kill him herself for that failure. All the orders she'd taken, all the shit, it was for absolutely nothing.

_If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, _she thought. She should have always known that, but it had been the best plan. And now they had to come up with a new one. She sigh.

"I'm going to kill that bitch."


	82. Chapter 82

Isabelle doubted that she would ever be comfortable in complete silence again. Before this day had started, silence meant relaxation, it meant the barest sounds of a breeze, or a day spent resting on a couch in an empty house. But now, silence had taken on a whole new meaning. Silence meant walking through the streets of a once busy, bright city, and hearing absolutely nothing at all. It meant lifeless corpses staring upward, and miles of bloody concrete.

She had thought, as she entered Alicante, that it was impossible for anyone to be left alive here.

And then, after passing what must have been more than a hundred bodies, that silence that had seeped into her bones was broken by a moan.

Isabelle dashed toward the sound, praying silently that against all odds it would be Alec, and discovered a woman that she had never met. The woman had a huge chunk of flesh torn away where her right hip and lower stomach used to be, and something had scraped away the skin from her neck with its teeth. She looked up at Isabelle with eyes full of pain and grief as she knelt down beside her.

"Do you have a stele?" Isabelle demanded immediately. She traced a iratz motion on the woman's torso with her finger, but it didn't work like it had at the lake. She hadn't really expected it too.

The woman only looked at her.

"Please, I can help you if you have a-"

That was when she noticed the beauty, she hadn't been looking beyond the gore. Seeing that she had finally realized, the faerie gave her the smallest of smiles.

"Your angel Marks won't work on me anyway, young Nephilim."

"Can you... could your people save you? Are your kind capable of-"

"I'm going to die," the faerie assured her calmly. "It's quite alright to leave me here."

Isabelle wiped furiously at the tears that gathered in her eyes. "I'm not leaving you here to die. The Fair Folk can save you," she insisted stubbornly.

The faerie looked impossibly sad, and she spoke through hardly won breaths. "The Fair Folk are a selfish people. The vast -majority of them did not choose to aid Nephilim today, and I. I am glad of it. Because all those who did have fallen. This was not a battle, girl, this was a slaughter. And I am grateful that most of my people were not foolish enough to get caught in it." She was panting with the effort of speaking. "But that means there is no one to save me. Not - in time. So I will ... die. And that's alright."

Isabelle shook her head, over and over. She couldn't stop her tears from spilling over, she didn't have any more strength in her after everything that happened. "It's not. You did what was right, you- you chose to help us. You had hope you shouldn't be - this is wrong."

The faerie gripped her hand then. "This is - as it's always been. I've had - hundreds of years to- to have known better."

"No!" Isabelle shouted at her, she gripped her hair with her free hand and looked around. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to pick you up, and we're going to go find someone who can help you. Because it can't be like this, alright? This is not..."

But Isabelle stopped, because the faerie woman was dead. She collapsed onto her now-lifeless body and sobbed.

"Alec don't," Magnus said. He gripped onto his arm and pulled him backwards. Alec hadn't yet seen, but Magnus had. And the last thing he wanted was for Alec to see it.

They were on the shore of Lake Lyn, and they had been walking the perimeter since they'd gotten there. Magnus hadn't been entirely sure why at first, but now he understood what Alec had been unknowingly looking for. They were meant to find Isabelle, but it seemed something in Alec was still calling out for Jace.

"What is it?" Alec said, yanking his arm away harshly and proceeding forward. When he saw Jace, he went perfectly still for a moment, and then he started walking forward again. Slowly, as though he had to think about each and every step.

Finally, he reached his parabatai's side, and dropped to his knees beside him. Magnus couldn't remember ever seeing Alec cry before now.

He didn't dare approach him, instead he examined the space around them. A distance away lay the body of Valentine Morgenstern, a hole in his chest far larger and cleaner than the one in Jace's. To the right of where Magnus stood was a tossed-together altar of black stones. It was surrounded by runes and topped with a human heart, speared through from top to bottom with a dagger, keeping it upright. Jace's.

The tip of the dagger was buried with impossible strength into the stone beneath, tacking a single note along with it.

_eímaste thánato,_ it said. _We are death._

Clary let out an unexplainable giggle when she and Sebastian entered their traveling apartment.

It was exactly how they'd left it so long ago. There was the leather sofa, where she'd sat and had facts about a previously unknown world and all its players drilled into her, the floor where she'd first practiced healing from a fatal wound. Down the hall and to the left she knew she'd find the training room, where they'd spent countless hours beating each other senseless and ignoring impossibly thick sexual tension. And up the clear glass stairs...

She glanced at Sebastian from the corner of her eye. He seemed to have had the same line of thought, because he was already staring right at her.

His lips turned up in a small smirk when their eyes met.

"So," he said. "Want a sandwich?"

She punched his arm. "Shut up," she growled, and pounced.

He released a throaty laugh when she wrapped her legs around his hips, but it cut off when she placed her lips onto his. Their kiss quickly deepened, the world seemed to slip away for several minutes before he pulled away.

"Good thing you're so light," he gasped out, and then attached his lips to her neck while he spun her around and rammed her back against the wall. She let out a moan at the violent gesture and turned her neck to give him better access.

Satisfied that he'd left his mark, he pulled back and began the tedious removal of her deep red leather gear. Seeing her bra was like a victory for him, she guessed, because he reacted very enthusiastically. Meaning that said bra was gone before she'd even had time to blink. She gave him a lazy smile, loving him for using that impossible speed of his.

He returned her grin, bearing all his teeth in an almost feral way that had her blood suddenly boiling. His eyes were alight as he leaned down and left searing kisses all across her upper body, finally focusing his attention on her breasts. The sensation was as wonderful as ever, and she involuntarily slammed her head back against the wall.

He chuckled, and it sent vibrations shooting down her body, heat pooling in between her thighs. She grabbed him and forced his lips back to hers in a brutal kiss.

"We're still wearing too many clothes," she breathed when she pulled away.

His pupils were fully blown with lust, and she shivered at the sight of it.

And then he did something totally unexpected, picking her up and throwing her entire body over his shoulder.

"Sebastian!" She screeched, and then her cheeks heated further at how undignified it had sounded. But her brother just laughed.

"Bedroom," he explained, and whistled all the way up the stairs while she grumbled silently.

But then she was being tossed down onto a familiar mattress, and all indignity melted away as he peeled off the rest of her gear. She looked up at him confidently, flat on her back in nothing but a black thong while he stood at the edge of the bed. And then he reached out and latched on to both her legs, yanking her roughly towards him and into a sitting position.

For a long minute he simply kissed her, but then he pulled away and got down on his knees.

She had the feeling that she must look like a crazed animal, her hair mussed and her eyes clouded with lust. But he looked at her like she was a legend, and her heart swelled the tiniest bit.

All thoughts of emotions were pushed forcefully to the back of her mind, though, when he slipped off her panties and set to unraveling her, his tongue as the weapon.

She bit her tongue, hard, but a strangled noise still made it out.

"No, don't do that," he said. "I want to hear you."

Because they'd spent too long having to be secret, and now there was no father to keep the secret from. So she didn't hold back her moans when he began draw wicked motions around her clit. Suddenly she was gripping his hair, making a small mental note that he needed to remove the black dye immediately after they were done, desperately trying to keep him in place. He dipped his tongue into her entrance and she cried out, probably close to ripping out his locks. He let out a low laugh and the combination of sensations it sent through her body were so delicious that the world almost went white for a moment.

But he just kept pleasuring her, until she was calling out in ecstasy as release rocked through her.

"Not fair," she panted.

He looked up at her, eyebrow raised.

"You're still wearing all your clothes," she chided breathlessly.

That feral grin was back as he stood up and stripped for her. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, it always did. She lay back down on the bed slowly and hooked a finger towards him, silently ordering him along. He obliged.

His hand was trailing down her stomach, but she slapped her own hand down on it to stop his progression.

"No need to be so gentle," she told him.

His eyes became a little more hooded, and he didn't waste any time after that. He lined himself up and she screamed in pleasure as he entered her, not sparing a second to find out if it had caused any pain.

"Move," she growled at him.

Another laugh, and then he was pulling out only to ram back into her over and over and over again. His movements became faster, and she met each and every thrust with her own. He never missed that sweet spot inside her. They carried on like that until she couldn't last any longer, and suddenly her walls were tightening around him, her climax building again rapidly. She came first, calling out his name. A short while later he followed, not silently.

They lay panting next to each other a few minutes later, coming down from their mutual euphoria. Clary couldn't remember the last time she'd felt quite so at peace. Perhaps Isabelle Lightwood did her a favor by getting her father killed, if that was what even happened. Under completely different circumstances, she might even thank her for it. But Isabelle Lightwood had not just killed her father, she'd killed Simon.

She tried to clamp down on that thought immediately, but she just wasn't quick enough that time. And suddenly Clary couldn't breathe.

She sat up, and Sebastian turned his head toward her curiously before he blinked, realizing.

"Clary."

She stared at him for a long time. "Simon's dead," she breathed at last.

He looked at her with sad eyes. "I know, Clary."

She couldn't believe how long she'd managed to just focus on her anger and not really think about it. The grief seemed to completely take her over now, wiping out everything in its path.

"I- I was avoiding."

He nodded. "I know you were."

Of course he knew, she realized. He'd helped.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered.

He gave her the smallest of grins. "Well, I've been thinking about that."

The next two weeks passed by in a blur for Alec. That day he'd found Isabelle shortly after the sun came up, as he and Magnus had went back to the city to get an object to track her with, after Magnus had convinced him that blind intuition was obviously not cutting it, and found her by chance rummaging through bodies for survivors.

She'd been half out of her mind, or so he'd originally thought, rambling about seeing Raziel and Demon Daggers and how they couldn't trust the Fair Folk. But it turned out she was just exhausted, because shortly thereafter she had passed out and slept for seventy two hours. He had had to wait until she woke up for her to explain to him how she'd come to have both the Mortal Cup and Sword in her possession. Or not explain to him, but explain to their remaining leaders.

They'd begun trickling in about twenty hours after the slaughter had ended, and they'd been quickly overwhelmed by the number of bodies.

_Half_, Alec had been told.

Half their race had been in Alicante, having answered the call and prepared to fight for their lives and freedom. And that half of their warrior race had died. There were only ten survivors of the slaughter overall, five of them Nephilim, and seven were still hospitalized with extensive injuries. The other three - including, impossibly, Inquisitor Herondale - had taken up permanent residence in mundane mental hospitals.

Alec had spent four days with the others, in which he had also learned that only one of the survivors had been a vampire. Raphael Santiago, and he knew Magnus was grateful despite the boy's mental state.

Alec had also become accustomed to hearing the Nephilim who had stayed to protect their Institutes voice their guilt. Alec didn't blame them at all, someone had had to stay and protect the cities. He hardly even blamed the others who had had no good reason but refused anyway. If they had come, they would have just died too, and then there would be even less Nephilim left. And there wasn't enough of them in the first place, hadn't that been one of Valentine Morgenstern's main selling points?

Once all the bodies had been removed and burned, the downworlders who had helped given respectful burials instead, everyone had lapsed into a quiet sort of mourning. Everyone Alec saw in those days wore only white.

And Isabelle was different. Harder. Colder. Max was brought back to them, as Isabelle refused to have him far from her. She insisted that Clary was not above seeking him out and killing him in Simon's name, and that fear overtook the fear of her proximity putting him in danger. Even Max, though, had noticed the change in Isabelle.

Whenever they had a private moment, all she talked about was her Daggers. Being around her had started to make Alec feel cold, but he had been doing his best to ignore it. The Angel knew he had his own trauma as well. Every time he would remember that Jace was truly gone, he would feel crippled all over again. He was doing his best though, and clinging to his little brother with everything he had. And Magnus had helped, more than the Warlock even knew.

But as the days went by, Alec grew more and more worried. Anxious, looking over his shoulder and feeling as though someone was watching him. The question was always on his mind: where were Clary and Sebastian?


	83. Chapter 83

"No. Absolutely not!" Isabelle shouted. "How you can even think that I would begin to consider-"

"Isabelle," Alec interrupted calmly for the third time. "Staying here doesn't make any sense anymore Iz. We're neglecting our responsibilities."

Her eyes went even wider at this, and rage made her normally inviting face almost ugly. When she spoke, her voice was dangerously low. "_Neglecting our responsibilities?_"

He knew that anyone else would probably be extremely intimidated by his sister at this moment, but he had had years of practice. "Yes," he stated. "The New York Institute is completely vacant, it has been since we got here. Isabelle, everyone is dead."

Even their mom was dead now. They had assumed that the demons wouldn't bother going deep enough into the catacombs, but it was discovered pretty quickly that none of the prisoners had been spared. It was a low blow to bring this up to Isabelle, so soon after everything that had happened. But she was being completely unreasonable.

"You're right Alec!" She yelled. "Everyone is dead! And our responsibility is to avenge them! Not to run back and shut ourselves away in the Institute so we can take care of low levels demon who might attack some useless mundane walking around for a midnight stroll!"

Alec blinked at her incredulously. "Do you even hear yourself?" He demanded. "Protecting mundanes is what we do, Iz. We have a mandate."

"And just how in the hell is going back to New York the best thing to do for mundanes?!" She screeched at him. "If I don't kill those sick pieces of shit, any single mundane that we save there will just die anyway!"

"You," he emphasized quietly.

"What?"

"You said you had to kill them," he pointed out.

"I'm the only one who can," she said. It was like she couldn't believe he didn't understand that immediately.

"No Isabelle," he said. "You have the weapons that can kill them. It's not the same thing."

"It's exactly the same thing!" She protested. "They're my Daggers, the Angel gave them to -"

"You, yes. The Angel gave those Daggers to you, but he did it because you were the only one there Isabelle!" He tried to reign in his volume, but he had given away almost all his patience already. She recoiled at his words like she'd been slapped, but he couldn't stop himself. "You are not the only shadowhunter left in the world, okay? You're not. There are still half of us left. You're not even twenty Iz, you don't have the experience or the training for this! Killing those two is possibly the most important task on earth, and you won't allow someone older with a better shot to even take it on. You're hiding those weapons, have blatantly refused to give them up despite the demands of numerous leaders! Everyone's giving you a wide berth because you saw Raziel, but anyone can use those Daggers Isabelle. And most have a better shot at not dying than you do!"

Isabelle stared at him for a long time, and when she finally spoke again her words were hard and clipped. "The Daggers are mine. The responsibility is mine. She is my enemy."

"Oh dammit Isabelle she's everyone's enemy!" He yelled. "That hate does not belong only to you! There is not a single shadowhunter alive that doesn't want or deserve revenge. Even the downworlders have a claim on them!"

"She may be enemy to everyone," Isabelle said icily. "But between her and I, it goes both ways. She will kill anyone who comes after her without a second thought, without a second glance. But me? She will savor me. And she is coming for me."

"Iz-"

"And as for the downworlders. Some may want revenge, but not all. Some came to aid us, sure. But they did not have the support of their entire races behind them when they did so. The Fair Folk didn't even-"

"Here we go again."

She continued as though he hadn't interrupted. "The Fair Folk didn't even support us at all. The faeries who came to aid us were all but considered traitors, and not one of their kin came to claim their bodies."

"Do you think that I don't know that?" He asked.

"Well you act like I'm making it up! Roll your eyes and practically ignore me whenever I so much as speak a word against them. They're not to be trusted Alec! They don't care about revenge."

"But that doesn't mean that they're planning to attack us or that every faerie should suddenly be blacklisted," Alec insisted. He hated this topic, and he'd put off this line of conversation for weeks on purpose.

Isabelle huffed. "You're an idiot," she spit. "The Fair Folk are all about their games. Their odds. They bat for the winning team, Alec. And as far as they have observed, it's not ours. If Clary and Sebastian have a strong enough argument, they could have faeries marching against us so fast. And we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves because we've literally been cut in half!"

Alec shook his head. "Traitors or not, Clary and Sebastian have killed their own. They won't forgive that."

Isabelle rolled her eyes at him, as though he were an four year old that had just said something completely nonsensical. "You're wrong. Valentine did that."

"No, he-"

"We know he didn't. The Fair Folk don't. And since they won't speak to us, we can't tell them who to blame. Clary could easily march in there and bat her eyelashes and convince the Queen that it was all Valentine's doing, that they would never dare to stand against her. And with power like theirs? Too easy."

Alec only blinked, he didn't know what else to say and he couldn't argue against her logic.

She gave a sad smile. "You see? I'm the one that sees their moves. They don't care who dies, but to them I'm an exception. I'm the one that absolutely must die if they are to succeed. That is why killing them is my responsibility, Alec. And what's left of our family is safe here. I can't do what I need to do if you take Max back to New York. You're an incredible shadowhunter, and you're my brother and I trust you to take care of yourself. But Max is vulnerable, and this is the only place left where he is relatively safe. We still don't know how they took the Wards down, but it couldn't have been easy. And they're back up now. There are no wards in New York."

Alec shook his head to clear it, already battling with the decision he was coming to. "I'll send someone to take over the Institute. I'll," he cleared his throat, "I'll formally relinquish our family's claim to it."

Isabelle nodded. "I'm sorry."

He blinked, a scowl forming. "I'm doing this because you're right about Max. He is safest here, and his protection is more important right now. But the rest of it? All the shit about how it just has to be you? I don't accept that Isabelle. Not for a second."

And then he walked out of the room before she could say another word.

"That went well," Jace remarked when Alec plopped down on the living room sofa.

They were still using the Penhallows house, and doing so knowing that all the Penhallows were dead was like being inside a crypt. But all of Alicante was like that now, and there was not a single structure that hadn't been damaged at least as badly as this one, so going somewhere else wouldn't have made any difference.

He eyed Jace warily as he always did. "Can't you just leave me alone?" He asked halfheartedly.

Jace gave him an almost-smile. "I wouldn't be here if you didn't want me here, Alec."

Alec just rolled his eyes. He'd been pretending like nothing was wrong, not telling Isabelle or anyone else that he and his dead parabatai still had conversations often. He didn't think it was all that big a deal. Everyone dealt with grief in their own way, didn't they?

"No," Jace answered his private rhetorical question aloud. "You shouldn't be writing this off, Alec. It's not healthy for you to be doing this, I'm dead."

"You think I don't know that?" Alec demanded. "So what if I keep this to myself? So what if I can see you? It's not an issue. It's just ... it's just, like, coping or something."

Jace gave him a sad shake of his head. "It's not coping. It's the opposite of coping. You need to let me go."

"I'm trying," Alec replied. But even he didn't quite believe that.

"Who are you talking to?" asked a smaller voice from Alec's left. He turned to see Max standing in the doorway.

"No one, buddy," Alec answered. "Come here."

Max had been distant ever since he'd come back to them. He was on his way to being twelve now, and it had been a long time since he'd seen either Alec or Isabelle. As a younger child, he'd been the closest to Jace. Alec tried to refrain himself from looking towards where Jace's form still sat, invisible to Max's eyes.

Max obliged, steps hesitant as they always were, and came to sit beside him.

"How are you doing?" Alec asked quietly.

"I miss Aunt Mandy," he admitted. Mandy was actually more like a third cousin four times removed, Alec thought. Or something like that. But Max had lived with her for a long time, at least in comparison to his total lifespan, and he had picked up referring to her as an Aunt at some point while he'd stayed with her and her family. "But it's nice being back," he added on quickly.

Alec gave him an amused grin. "You don't have to say that for my benefit, okay?"

Max blinked. "I don't?"

"You don't," Alec confirmed. "I don't doubt that you missed us but I understand that you liked it there. And we're um ... things aren't the same as they used to be with us. I get that."

Max frowned, looking lost in thought. Finally he said, "Isabelle doesn't."

Alec raised both eyebrows at that. "What do you mean?"

Max looked a little nervous. He bit his lower lip hard. "I just mean ... she keeps acting like nothing's wrong. And- and we're living in a dead person's house. It's all smashed up too. It's ... I don't like it here. But Izzy- she keeps being weird, and all angry for no reason sometimes. But then after she'll act like everything's fine again."

Alec let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around Max's shoulders. "Listen, buddy. Isabelle is ... she's just different now. She saw things, we- we all did." He glanced at Jace almost against his will, but then quickly looked away. "And it changes people. It might be a while before she's okay, and none of that is your fault. No matter if she loses her temper at you or acts weird or anything else, none of that is you. She's just scared."

Max nodded, slow, like he was thinking, and then fixed Alec with a stare. "Everybody's scared, but you seem okay."

Alec thought that he was anything but okay, but he didn't want to contradict Max. If it helped his little brother feel more comfortable around him, then what was the harm. "I am, I promise."

Max smiled a little and then stood up. "Aunt Mandy said that just because I was leaving didn't mean I could stop learning. So I'm going to go do my studies."

Alec nodded at him, secretly proud, and watched his little brother walk off.

"You're not okay," Jace told him.

Alec sigh, putting his face into his hands. "I know."

Magnus Bane was getting nervous. He had yet to voice his concerns about the downworlder community to Alec, since it was more than obvious that he had enough on his plate, but he was starting to think he might just have to say something in warning.

The slaughter in Alicante had sent a message to all downworlders: that the Nephilim were weak and in no place to enforce their Laws. It had spread that the downworlders who had assisted shadowhunters in Idris, and therefore died, were merely fools who should have known better. Or, to the fanatical, should have had more loyalty to their own races.

The more days passed, the more it became apparent that much of downworld was now considering allying themselves openly with the Morgenstern siblings. Since Valentine had died, and the siblings had called for downworlder aid instead of their destruction, it was taking root that they were somehow the better option.

This was especially popular among the faeries. And, perhaps worst of all, the vampires were becoming more vocally supportive as well. Clans were allying with other clans - something virtually unheard of previously - in potential support of the siblings, and the situation seemed to be growing more troublesome by the day.

The New York vampire clan had yet to state or do anything in support or condemnation, but without Raphael at the helm there was no saying how much longer that lack of stance could last.

But telling Raphael this, or telling him anything really, had virtually no effect. The vampire boy, once such a strong soul with a firm grip of control on many of his kind, barely did much more than breathe these days. He had been checked into a mundane hospital for the mentally unsound, near the upper west side. And he was being cared for by mundanes who had been paid handsomely to feed him blood through tubes and keep their mouths shut about it.

Magnus had visited him four times in the last sixteen days, and the caretakers recognized him enough to smile their greeting when he had arrived for visit number five.

"One of these days you're going to come out of this," Magnus was telling him. Raphael only looked blankly up at the ceiling, there was nothing in his eyes at all. Not so much as a flicker of consciousness. "And when you do, I hope that the world will still be in tact."

He often wondered at what Raphael, tough as nails Raphael, could have seen to make him completely collapse in on himself. He never would have thought it possible before it happened. And when he wasn't wondering, he feared that Raphael would never actually come out of it at all. What if he had lived only to waste away to dust in this white sheeted cot, with no one by his side?

The entire situation broke Magnus's heart. He never could have predicted anything like this, he never could have predicted Clary and Sebastian. And every day when he was alone with his thoughts, he feared that the siblings were actually going to win. Magnus would stand with Alec, he loved Alec. But he would be blind not to notice that it was becoming more and more likely that he would die for that love, very soon.

"I hope you're certain that you are capable of this," Clary told the warlock.

"I assure you miss, I am. And I am more than happy to serve you in any way I can."

Sebastian looked the warlock up and down. He had a thin, unassuming sort of build, but was obviously powerful. His eyes were a shade of purple and his hair was almost as white as Sebastian's own.

"Do you have an ulterior motive?" He inquired.

The warlock pursed his lips. "I would love to see the Nephilim burn, is all. But I would venture to humbly request that when you wipe them all out, you allow me to save one for my own purposes."

"We will consider it," Clary said. What she didn't say was that she wasn't sure they would actually be wiping them all out. Sebastian had had a few ideas of what they could do to the Nephilim that would be far more beneficial to their purposes. But either way, she was sure that anyone with hatred for the Angel's children would be satisfied in the end.

The Warlock bowed. "That's all I can ask."

"Then let's get started," Sebastian ordered. "Bring forth our unholy Mother."


	84. Chapter 84

Lilith remembered many things. She remembered Adam's self righteousness, and the freedom she had felt when she turned her back on him. She remembered the punishment for the act, the first time a child of hers had died, and every time after that. She remembered her first creation, the first thing to ever show her any respect. She remembered a millennia spent alternating between true world and dark Abyss.

And she remembered the day that Valentine Morgenstern summoned her and demanded from her the black blood that ran through her veins. She had been rational, calm, issuing warnings as one should, but she had also been secretly delighted. Hopeful. Because Valentine's children would live, these children that would also be hers in blood as much as his or the woman who carried them, they would live. Unlike so many lost.

And live they had.

Jonathan had been first. And Lilith loved him as she'd never loved anything else. She'd been there, hidden, as he'd been brought into the world. She'd been there to pick him up and cradle him when the orange haired woman would fell asleep, or ill, or neglected him. It had been abundantly obvious that the boy did not belong to the woman, and the woman's love was faked. No, from the very start Jonathan had been Lilith's. Quiet and obedient, but also strong and unique and delightfully intelligent.

She remembered watching as the orange haired woman cried over ashes and bones, marveling at how idiotic she must have been to think that something so rudimentary as fire could possibly kill that boy. No, Lilith's son was not so weak, not so vulnerable to something like death.

Lilith had watched him grow from afar, checking in every so often, but never getting close enough to be seen.

It had been different with her second child- who had been called Clarissa. Lilith had feared for her, and paid a much closer eye. The girl had been bright eyed and orange haired, just as the woman who had borne her had been, and Lilith had feared that perhaps she did not belong to her in the same way Jonathan did.

But then Clarissa had grown, and Lilith had watched the same blood make her second child into something just as strong and capable as her elder brother. Some of Lilith's fondest memories were her conversations with Clarissa as a child, even though Clarissa was far too young to possibly remember them or her.

But for the most part, she'd played little role in either of their lives, wanting them to grow and live and become as they should be without her presence. She wanted proof that blood was of greater importance than circumstance, and she'd gotten it. Because here they were in front of her, having called her to them personally at last.

"My children," she said, and then she opened her arms to them.

And they knew, as they should, that they had nothing to fear and everything to gain from their mother, and they stepped into her embrace without hesitation.

**Several days later**

"What would you have us do, Miss Lightwood?" The older woman asked her, all condescension and thinly veiled frustration. Well, Isabelle was frustrated too, so the old bat would just have to deal with it.

"What would I have you do? I would have you find them! I would have you let _me_ find them!" Isabelle hollered.

"Miss Lightwood. Our kind have taken a major hit, I'm sure you understand that we are struggling to simply live our mandate on a day-to-day basis. I understand how you feel, truly I do, but we do not at this time have the manpower to send out large groups on suicide missions."

"It wouldn't be suicide if you would sanction me to join them," she pointed out.

The woman's eyes flashed. Really, she was not old. Most of the elderly had been killed, this woman was in her fifties at the very latest. But calling her an old bat simply made Isabelle feel better about arguing with her. "It would not be suicide if you would simply do us all a favor and present the weapon over to us."

Isabelle had never actually specified in the presence of any of her leaders that the weapon in question was actually a pair of daggers. She had only ever explicitly mentioned what she could do with them, that being to kill the enemy. She now regretted ever revealing that she had something so important in the first place. If she hadn't, then there would not be eyes on her at all times preventing her from simply escaping the city to do what needed to be done. But she couldn't regret the decision to stay in Alicante, it was still the best situation for her brothers to be in, and they wouldn't have stayed while she returned to New York. Plus, she couldn't have run an Institute on her own and hunted Clary at the same time.

"You know I can't do that," she said for what felt like the millionth time.

"And you know I cannot sanction you for such a mission. So we remain at a stalemate."

"The clock's ticking. I know you've only been Inquisitor for, like, five minutes-"

"Miss Lightwood!"

"- but you're going to get us all killed if you continue to keep me here," she finished as though she had not been interrupted.

"If the Morgensterns do return to finish us off, Miss Lightwood, it would be no one's fault but your own."

Isabelle walked out, spitting mad as usual. She couldn't fathom why she kept returning, kept requesting an audience. It was always the same shit, different day. She would not allow someone to take this from her and fail, but not even Alec understood why no one besides her stood a chance. There was nothing else to do but continue campaigning, and it was slowly driving her mad. Isabelle couldn't remember the last time she slept. Or ate. Sleep was impossible, food was unappealing.

"How'd it go this time?" Alec asked when she returned to the house.

She scowled at him, but his expression didn't change.

"Thought so. Aren't you tired of this?"

Alec was looking a bit off himself as of late. Isabelle always pretended not to notice how he never made eye contact with her, how he constantly looked around rooms or muttered under his breath. The collected Alec he'd once been was long gone, replaced by something paranoid and perpetually drained. She often wondered how she now looked in _his_ eyes.

"Of course, Alec. I'm just waiting for the Inquisitor to get tired of it too, not that I have time for that."

Alec didn't bother to reply, he'd stopped doing that days ago. Or was it weeks? Time was tricky when you barely slept.

"Where's Max?" She asked.

"In Aline's old room. But he's studying so I don't think you sh-"

She didn't catch the rest of what he said, already half way down the hall. It didn't matter anyway, she needed to see Max. Sometimes he was the only thing that kept her going.

"Hey kid," she said as she entered the room. She wished Alec wouldn't call it _Aline's_ _old_ _room_, she didn't like the constant reminders that most everyone they knew was dead. But she shook it off as always.

Max smiled, not yet looking away from his desk. His glasses were slid all the way down his nose while he read and scribbled something down a second later.

"What's up?" He asked, finally looking over at where she stood.

She came to kneel by his chair. "Nothing much, just checking on you."

Something she couldn't identify flickered in his eyes, gone in the next blink.

"I'm fine, Izzy. Always fine."

"It's okay if you're not, you know. That wouldn't be a bad thing," she told him gently. He never mentioned Jace to her, and she knew how close they were. He never mentioned Maryse either.

He gave her a look that could only be described as sympathetic, which really wasn't what she was going for. "I think you should remember that too," he told her.

She clasped her hands together and stood up. "It's different Max. I have a job to do, I gotta be focused you know?"

He gave a small sigh and returned his eyes to his work, putting pencil back on paper. "Sure, Izzy. I get it."

But she didn't think he really did.

The Seelie Queen was suddenly having a very interesting day, as Seraphina Morgenstern waltzing grandly into her Court was a completely unexpected turn of events, mostly due to the fact that no one had invited her in, much less shown her the way. And yet there she was, a wanted woman strolling gracefully up to the Queen's throne, a knowing smile playing upon her lips.

The Queen felt a surge of jealousy at the girl's beauty, the allure of human youth unfailing. Though, in reality, _human _was not at all the correct term. Still, she looked vibrant. Her deep red locks shined without the benefit of allusion, and the fading flecks of dark green in her eyes seemed to sparkle impossibly amongst the sea of black. She was nothing more than a wicked thing, and yet she turned the eyes of the entire Court as a fair maiden would. But the Queen had learned to master her jealousy over the years, as she had crafted everything else about herself.

The demon girl bowed when she reached the center of the floor, though it was more a mocking gesture than anything.

"Seraphina."

The demon's lips pulled back ever slightly, a gleam of teeth showing in annoyance.

"Your Majesty," she said as if the words were sour.

"I would be delighted to know who allowed you in unannounced."

The smile returned. "You might find I already have many loyalists among your Court."

The Queen only blinked. "Is that why you chose to visit?"

"I do wish it was so simple, but some is not all, you understand." Seraphina smiled at the Queen's observers and then returned her gaze to her. "Tell me, what is your name?"

The Seelie Queen kept her face perfectly blank. "I have no need of a name among my subjects."

"Of course, but this is me asking. And I am no subject of yours."

"All who enter my Court bow to me, little girl."

Seraphina laughed, it held no humor in it. And then, in the next blink of the Queen's eye, she stood not inches from her. It was impossible, the Queen's vision was like no other. It had no imperfection, and yet the girl had moved too quickly for even she to track.

"I bow to no one," Seraphina whispered, though all the Court could hear it in the silence. "And it was not a request. Tell me your name."

"Kill her," the Queen commanded pleasantly.

No one moved for several seconds, not even her personal guards. And then the closest seemed to snap back to attention and obediently lunged.

The Queen smiled as a blade pierced clean through Seraphina's chest, and dark blood bloomed and spread around the protruding edge. The demon let out a shriek of rage and pain as she reached back and wrapped her hand around the blade's handle, pulling it out in a blur. The Queen watched, fascination coursing through her blood, as the mortal wound stitched itself up.

And then the bloody blade was pressed against her throat. Several members of her Court gasped, as though it were not the most predictable next move. The Queen longed to tell them all to shut their pathetic mouths.

Seraphina was grinning, her teeth bloody. "Admirable attempt," she said. "But I expected more insight from the likes of you."

The Seelie Queen said nothing, she had received her long awaited answer.

"I didn't come here to kill you, I simply wanted us on the same page, friends even. And friends know each other's names."

The Seelie Queen searched the demon girl's eyes for several prolonged seconds. She must have imagined the green in them earlier, because they were black as night and devoid of anything even resembling humanity. It was intriguing, and brought out a bit of unexpected honesty.

"Xenia," she said low enough that it was hardly a brush of the lips.

Seraphina's eyes lit up and she laughed again, this time genuine. "Fitting," she mocked.

The Queen allowed a small, humorless smile to grace her lips, privately hating the name she was once given.

"Well, Xenia. Many claim that you are quite sensible, so I'm sure you know that to stand with me is your only viable option. Yes?"

It was true, and yet she sat upon this throne for a reason. Because her people trusted her to protect them, and so explanations were necessary, for the crowd if nothing else. "Are you not responsible for the deaths of my own, Seraphina Morgenstern?"

"I wouldn't mind taking credit for the deaths of your traitors, as I, of course, owe nothing to those who would take up arms for Nephilim." The demon sigh exaggeratedly. "Sadly, though, the credit truly belongs to my late father. May he burn in hell forever."

The girl removed the blade from the Queen's neck then, and twirled it a bit. She flashed a smile at the crowd of faeries around them.

"You prefer to imagine your father in Hell?" One subject called out, but she cowered some under the Queen's sharp glance.

Seraphina, though, looked delighted. "I doubted there were many fans of Valentine Morgenstern here. I'm certainly not one. He hated all that I was, right along with his hate for all of you."

"He created you," the Queen pointed out.

The girl's eyes flashed. "My Mother created me," she growled. "Not the filth that was Valentine. And it is She who will see us through, if you will choose correctly here."

The Queen had many more questions, but she held her tongue. There would be another time for that, a time where she was not being gawked at by her idiotic subjects. A time in which she could properly indulge her curiosity.

"The Fair Folk's allegiance is yours," she said, though it had already been true for quite some time.

Seraphina appeared nothing short of proud. "Fantastic," she said with a bright smile. "Firstly, I'd like all of your help in, ah let's say, distributing some information."

Sebastian stood up immediately when Clary entered their apartment. Blood stained around her mouth and there was a tear in her gear where her heart lay. She moved confidently, as she always did, but Sebastian could see the hidden truths. Her skin was a shade paler than usual, the few specks of green in her eyes nonexistent. He was by her side within a moment.

"What happened," he demanded immediately.

She gave a sigh but didn't yet answer, instead walking towards the kitchen and riffling through the cabinets.

"It was as expected," she told him while she ate. "Where's mom?"

"Upstairs," he replied automatically. "And if it was as expected, you wouldn't have been attacked."

She waved it off. "She was just playing her games, I think she already suspected that she couldn't kill me. I mean, she basically rolled out the red carpet the second after I healed."

"Well?"

His sister smiled then, and he was instantly put at ease. There was no longer a need, but she answered anyway. "Isabelle will be right where we want her when the time comes, they all will."

"France then?" He asked, smirking.

She smiled back, giving a good natured eye roll. "France," she agreed.


	85. Chapter 85

Clary held the _adamas_ up in the light. It looked like nothing more than a hunk of crystallized rock. She still couldn't believe what a bitch it had been to find, or how much they'd had to pay for it back in Prague. One would think the promise of living free from hunters would motivate any demon to simply give in contribution. But not Mirek, no. He had insisted on his thirty pieces of silver, so to speak. It was better and easier, Sebastian had insisted, to just be agreeable instead of forcing the greedy bastard to cooperate. Inspire good will or whatever, Clary still thought it was ridiculous.

Yet, hunk of rock or no, she was still somewhat hesitant to hand it over to the woman in front of them. It had costed them time and money, and they had big plans for it, so having to entrust it to an Iron Sister - whether she was a former one or not - was inconvenient at best. Damn that Magdalena was the only one who could shape it.

The auburn haired woman was staring hungrily at the _adamas_ in Clary's hand, had been for the last three minutes as Clary had unnecessarily inspected it. A last shared look with Sebastian and a sigh later, she finally handed it over. The woman's hands, scarred with multiple runes, trembled.

"_Adamas_ _pur_," she whispered. "It has been years since I touched the holy material."

"It is all yours to craft with," said Sebastian. "When you are done, we shall pay you in more of it. That is, if you believe you can create what we asked for."

Magdalena drew herself up, and Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Am I not an Iron Sister? Did I not take the vows? Do my hands not shape the stuff of Heaven? I can deliver what I promised, Valentine's son. Never doubt it."

"Good to hear," Clary said, biting back her smile. "One of us will return tonight, then. You know how to summon us if you need to."

Magdalena nodded. All her attention was back on the adamas, stroking it with her fingers. "Yes. You may go."

Consul Alderwood was distinctly uncomfortable. He had not been first in line for his position, he had not even been tenth. But everyone who should have been in his place was dead. Alderwood really didn't deserve the power he'd been entrusted with, he'd never earned it. He had refused to go to Alicante when his former leaders had made their plea for aid, had refused even to allow his loved ones to go either. He'd been forgiven, obviously, and he'd taken the position they offered him out of guilt. But Alderwood did not see what he had done as a mistake, feelings of guilt aside. Because he was alive, his children, his family were still breathing. And that was not something to regret. If given the chance to choose again, he would do absolutely the same thing. And, in a way, he was. After all, he was here to speak with a faerie.

The news of the faeries allegiance had spread like wildfire. It was already suspected, but now it was confirmed. They had sided with the Morgensterns. So when the Seelie Queen's trusted advisor had sent the new Inquisitor a message, which was passed through several different Nephilim before it reached her, for her to meet with a faerie representative, he had found himself torn. In the old world, before the attack and the fall of his brethren, he would have respected the new Inquisitor's decision to immediately refuse. The friend of an enemy is also an enemy, after all. But in this new world? Things were much different. Nephilim, for likely the first time since Jonathan Shadowhunter himself, were living in a state of poorly controlled panic. Grieving, anxious, and refusing to trust. Mourning but unable to truly do so in peace. And it was for that reason, for his children who questioned where so many of their friends had gone, who wondered if he too would not make it back to them when the day was through, that he had decided to reach out regarding the offer. He had, of course, informed no one, well aware that the decision had already been made. Well aware that the Inquisitor and the majority of the Council were resigned to sit on their hands, applying pressure until the Lightwood girl gave up her mythical weapon.

Consul Alderwood did not believe that it actually existed. The idea that the Angel himself had stood in the middle of Lake Lyn and bestowed upon Isabelle Lightwood of all people the ultimate weapon which was meant to destroy the enemy, well it was simply ridiculous. Likely a delusion that the girl had created to cope with her trauma. Proven further by the fact that she had not allowed a single soul to see it, not even to verify its existence. And yet the Inquisitor and Council had placed upon such a delusion any last hope for the survival of their society.

The Consul was left with no true choice. Perhaps it was betrayal, but betrayal to save them all seemed like the fairest deal they would get. His brethren were idealistic, desperate to believe they could escape this with their morals in tact. It was naive.

So here Alderwood stood, portaled into a dirty New York back alley, waiting on a faerie. Hoping against all hope that perhaps there was a chance for his remaining people. And if there was, willing to do anything to get it.

The representative who arrived walked with a purpose, strong and secure in the knowledge that his kind was now safe. The Consul did not know him, but his rank was obvious.

"Consul," he said when he had reached him.

Alderwood gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The faerie man smiled at him condescendingly. "I'm sure," he said. "Her Majesty was surprised to hear from you after her offer was so rudely denied."

"Her Majesty should be assured that the Inquisitor does not speak for all Nephilim. I am willing to hear what she has to say." _And I hope that it will benefit my people, _he added mentally.

"My message is not from her Majesty, Consul."

Well, he could not say he had not suspected as much. "The Morgensterns."

"You are still willing to listen?"

"The Nephilim are aware where the Seelie Court has chosen to stand. I came, so I will listen."

"Make no mistake Consul, the Fair Folk are not alone in our position."

"All the more reason," he replied smoothly. Every word was just further proof he was right in choosing to come.

"Very well. The Morgenstern's are prepared to offer the Nephilim a single opportunity to preserve your collective lives."

He had planned to accept outright, but the word that came from his lips was, "Why?"

"I don't presume to understand the Master's' plan. Only that they are showing mercy, and the Nephilim would be fools to refuse it."

"What would they have us do?" He asked.

The faerie handed him a piece of delicate paper, a location scrawled on it in dark ink followed by a date and time. "Anyone of your kind who wishes to live is welcome," he told him. "For now, the Masters' want something of you specifically."

"Anything," Alderwood answered. He had made his choice, there was no room left for regret.

"You have twelve hours to allow Isabelle Lightwood to escape the city. You will tell her nothing, she is to believe it is by chance."

"And?" He prompted, because there was quite obviously more.

So the representative told him. The Consul swallowed, dread settling in his stomach. And such profound guilt that he began to doubt he'd ever truly felt the emotion before.

"Will that be a problem?" Inquired the faerie.

But the Consul only shook his head.

Magdalena had not disappointed. Clary held the Cup tightly in her grasp, already picturing Sebastian's face when she would return home and show it to him.

The work was impressive, exactly what they had wanted. Also impressive was the way the former Iron Sister had fought. She'd gotten in a good blow or two, but it wasn't nearly enough. She might have been convenient to keep around, but she was a liability at present. In any case, she'd served her purpose.

"Haven't you gotten tired of these four walls?" Jace asked him, sounding bored. "When was the last time you even saw Magnus?"

Alec rolled his eyes, but Jace couldn't see it because his face was covered by a pillow. _No_ _no_ _no_, he thought, _wrong_. Jace couldn't see him roll his eyes because Jace was _dead_. God, he was getting used to it.

"Yep that's a problem," Jace said.

Alec tossed the pillow off his face and across the room. "Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" Jace asked calmly.

"Stop- stop answering my thoughts!"

"Alec," he said, "I am your thoughts."

And then Alec was across the room, Jace pinned beneath him. He had figured out he could feel him a short while ago, and from there on he'd done his very best not to get too close. But that was out the window, because he was now straddling him, repeatedly punching him in the face. Over and over and over and over and - "Alec!" Isabelle screamed.

He froze, slowly turned his head to see her standing in the hallway, horrified. He looked back down, but Jace was gone. The floor beneath him was dented in, and his knuckles were bleeding profusely. "I..." But he had no words to explain this.

Isabelle seemed to take a deep breath, and then she made her way over to him, wrapping her arms under his and bringing him to his feet. She guided him slowly into a chair near the counter, and pulled out a stele. He tried to ignore the way she tried to catch his eyes while she drew small iratzes on his hands.

"Alec?" She whispered. "Where's Magnus?"

He finally looked at her then. "I told him that I," he swallowed. "I told him that I needed some time."

"Why?" She breathed.

"Don't act like you haven't heard."

"Enlighten me," she insisted.

"He's not safe, Izzy," he told her exasperatedly. "Bit by bit Downworld is turning to _them_. The warlocks are more powerful, hesitant or whatever. But they'll make their choice Iz, and he's denying it because he loves me. He'll be an outcast, he'll - he'll be killed. I won't be responsible for that."

"Then you're supposed to protect him! Not tell him to get lost!" Isabelle said.

Jace was back, nodding along with her words in the corner. Not a scratch on his face. Alec sigh.

"Do I look like I can protect him? He's the one who would try to protect me instead of doing what's best for him."

"That's what love means, Alec. You sacrifice for the person you love."

"Yeah well I don't want him to sacrifice! I want him to live! Everyone's dead and I just want him to live. Is that so wrong?"

"And what if he doesn't want to live without you?"

Alec stood up then. "Nephilim are gonna die Iz, so he's just gonna have to."

She backed away from him then, walls coming up, face returning to stone. "That's it then? You have no faith in me at all?"

He really didn't want to have this fight again. "I-"

"You said that no one else was gonna die."

Isabelle flinched, and Alec closed his eyes. Max had been listening. He turned around and there his little brother was, standing exactly where Isabelle had been a few minutes ago. Isabelle took a step towards him, "Buddy we-"

"No," said Max. "You both just say anything. Act like I don't need to really know anything, I'm just baby Max, right? Well aunt Mandy never treated me like that. I'm not a little kid anymore, I'm a shadowhunter too."

"We know that," Alec assured him. "We just don't know how to ... we're sorry."

Max shook his head in disappointment. "I know you are," he answered, and then walked out of the room.

Alec watched him go, unable to think of any words to improve the situation.

"I'm leaving Alec," Isabelle told him, her voice hard and determined.

"So you've been saying."

"No, I mean it." She walked over to the mantel above the fireplace, moved a few wooden decorations to the side, and pulled out an antique box he remembered seeing a few times as a kid. But it wasn't empty like it had been in his memories.

"Really?" He demanded when she pulled out two sleek, crooked daggers. "There?"

She didn't acknowledge him, only put one into each of her boots. "I'm getting out of here, one way or another. Screw the Council."

She walked right past him, but stopped in the doorway. "When Max gets back, tell him that I meant what I said, that I'll be back and I love him. Alright?"

Alec only nodded.

"And Alec?"

"Yeah?"

"In case I can't-" she broke off. "Just look out for yourself, for him."

"I will."

And then his sister left him alone.

Max Lightwood stormed from the house, not sparing a backwards glance for either one of his older siblings. He'd truly had enough of them babying him, and he didn't want to hear another word. He didn't know what he really wanted. To go back to Mandy, possibly. To be of some use. To be far far away from here at the same time.

Alicante wasn't beautiful anymore, the opposite really. It scared him to be here, to be around so many grieving people. And Alec and Isabelle were the worst in that regard. He was very observant, more than they realized. He knew about Isabelle's refusal to sleep or eat, had heard Alec talking to someone who wasn't there, had caught both of them crying more than a couple of times. But he kept all those things to himself, because they had told him that it would be over soon. That no one else was going to die. It wasn't that he had actually believed them, it was that they had told him it in the first place, and yet told each other something completely different. Like he was somehow the one who couldn't handle it. At least he ate all his meals and didn't talk to ghosts.

Max hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going, only that he was walking. He collided with someone before he had even realized what happened.

"Oh, sorry my boy. You've got to watch where you're going next time."

Max looked up to see an older man, probably around his dad's age - before he had died at least. It took him a minute to recognize him, but then it clicked.

"Consul Alderwood?" He double checked.

The man smiled. "I'm glad you know who I am, already. I'm still new, of course."

Max nodded at the man. "Yeah, I've been keeping up with my studies sir."

"That's great, young man. Say, would you like to see something?" The Consul asked. "It's new, like myself. They're almost finished building it."

"Alright," agreed Max. He didn't want to go back to the Penhallows yet, anyway.

After about ten minutes, he found himself approaching the Towers, the city limits, and looked up at the older man in question.

"It's a monument, all the names of everyone who, well you know. It's just outside the city."

A protest was on the tip of Max's tongue, his mind encouraging him to tell the older man that his sister wouldn't want him on the outside. But then, this man was the Consul. If he wasn't safe with him, who would he be safe with? So Max only nodded and kept silent.

"How far outside the city is it?" He asked the Consul a short while later, ignoring a bad feeling that had started in his stomach. The city limits had grown smaller behind them, he could barely see the towers when glancing back.

"Just a short ways further," the Consul told him. And about five minutes later, he stopped. He looked down at Max. "Can you see it?"

"See what?" Asked Max, who saw only trees.

"Oh, of course. You need a special rune to see it. Here, give me your hand."

Hesitantly, Max lifted his arm for the older man. He held back a hiss as the Mark was drawn into his skin, and then looked around wonderingly when it was finished. But still, nothing was there. "I still don't see anything," he told the Consul.

The man was no longer smiling at him, in fact he seemed to be shaking. And that was when Max felt himself growing drowsy. He looked down at the rune on his hand just in time for it to come together. "You..." He started, but he was suddenly too exhausted to finish. His legs gave way and the Consul just barely kept him from falling onto his face.

"I'm sorry, my boy. For what it's worth, I hope very much that you are to live."

And then the world went black.


	86. Chapter 86

Alderwood thought the structure was an amazing feat. The stories about Valentine Morgenstern's secret pockets had never mentioned how lavish they might be. It was strange to think that Clarissa Morgenstern looked right at home here, but it was true she did.

"You can just put him on the couch over there, my mother will tend to him," she said.

Alderwood kept his face blank, nodding mutely. He gently laid the unconscious Lightwood on the sofa, and quickly made his way out.

"See you at the Site Consul!" Clarissa called joyously, just before he closed the door behind him.

Magnus Bane sat in his apartment, an empty glass in his grip. He was doing the exact opposite of what Alec had asked him to do last they spoke. _Find somewhere safe, _he'd begged him. And then he'd said goodbye. It was stubborn, but Magnus didn't want to be safe, he wanted Alec. But the Nephilim didn't seem to believe that, despite everything he'd done to prove it. He'd simply left.

"-ever see the Daggers?"

Magnus kept forgetting he wasn't alone, continuously getting lost in self pity. Was this what he'd turned into? He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, yet he was wallowing because a shadowhunter had dumped him. Not dumped him, he amended privately, shaking his head to clear it. "What?" He asked.

Tessa stared at him with empathy but also with exasperation. She'd come looking for him, wanting, just as Alec had, to get him somewhere safe. But he'd refused to leave his apartment or his cat, so, like the good friend she was, she'd stayed with him a while. Though he knew eventually she'd have to go. Selfless Tessa, he thought, feeling as though she had to save everyone.

"You don't deserve what's happened to you, Tess," he told her.

She released a sigh. "Magnus please," she said, "this is important. Have you ever seen these Daggers?"

Magnus blinked. "Yeah," he told her. "I mean. Alec," he cleared his throat of the lump in it. "Alec and I saw a glimpse of them when Isabelle succumbed to exhaustion. I can't say if they'll work though, I certainly didn't see an Angel."

Tessa's hand strayed to the necklace she still wore, seemingly without her notice. "I-"

But she didn't get through her sentence, because someone was knocking violently on Magnus's door. Instantly he and Tessa were on alert. There were downworlders on the hunt for both of them. Magnus wondered if he should be regretting his last glass.

"Magnus it's me," Alec said from outside, and the High Warlock nearly collapsed with relief. Tessa relaxed as well, and she took a deep breath as she walked over to the door.

As soon as it was open, Alec barged inside. "I won't even say what I think about the fact that you're still here, since right now I'm grateful for it," he said. "But I- oh. Who are you?"

"Tessa," she replied smiling. "And you're Alec. I'll just give you two a moment." With that she made her way past Alec and shut the door behind her.

"A friend?" Alec inquired, his train of thought apparently forgotten.

"What are you doing here, Alexander?"

Alec blinked, anguish making an appearance on his lovely features. "Magnus I-"

"Did you come to apologize?" He asked, keeping any hope he had out of his voice.

"You know I still love you," Alec said instead of answering. "That was never the reason."

"You made your reasons clear, Alec. That's why I'm asking why you're here."

Alec sigh, giving up the argument before it started. "My brother's missing," he told him.

Now, Magnus wasn't sure what he expected, but that was not it. "Did you track him?" He asked dumbly.

"Of course I tracked him," Alec replied, disbelief coloring his tone. "It didn't work."

"Didn't work?"

Alec didn't bother to repeat himself. "I know what's going on between us right now is - it's not fair to you. I know that. But you're the only one who can help me. He's my little brother Magnus. Can you find him?"

Magnus was hurt, but he would still do all he could for Alec. "Of course I can," he told him.

And he tried. But, much like Alec had said, it wasn't working. The map they were using remained perfectly blank, as though Max simply didn't exist. Magnus knew what that could mean, but he feared what saying it might do to Alec. It turned out he was to be beaten to it, though.

"He's not dead," Alec insisted.

"Alexander-"

"No," said Alec. "I'm not being desperate or anything. I mean I am but, just- This is what happens when the Clave tries to track Clary or Sebastian, or when they used to track Valentine. They don't come up, like they don't exist. Just like this. They have my brother, it's the only explanation."

Magnus nodded, more than willing to believe that.

"If the Clave could have done what I just did, why didn't you go to them first?" Magnus asked, practically as the thought occurred to him.

Alec grimaced. "There's this rumor going around - look. It's not important. Is there anything else you could try?"

So Magnus and Alec spent the day away, trying any number of ways of tracking Max. Eventually they began attempting to track Clary and Sebastian as well, with no results.

Finally, some time well after midnight, something worked.

"Ireland," Alec read, but it sounded like a question.

"So it seems," Magnus replied.

Alec looked up at him, resolution in his expression. "I won't ask you to come with me," Alec told him. "But I need to get there."

"If I'm going to portal you into the lion's den, Alec, I'm going to join you."

"I never meant to hurt you," Alec said. "I love you. I didn't want to leave you behind to mourn me."

"I'm going to mourn you either way, you stupid Nephilim."

And suddenly Alec was kissing him. Magnus thought it was like coming home. It never ceased to amaze him, how much he loved this man. He never wanted to let him go, but eventually it had to end. They were each breathing raggedly by the time they pulled away, lips swollen.

"Magnus," Alec said.

The warlock dreaded the next words, but he was not surprised by them.

"When we get there," Alec stopped and swallowed. "If it becomes a situation where we end up - if it comes down to me or my little brother, you choose my brother, alright? Promise me."

Magnus wanted to refuse. He wanted to believe each of them would make it out, but he knew better. So he only nodded, and started on making a portal.

Isabelle Lightwood stood in the shadows, her back pressed against the stone wall. Nephilim were here, hundreds of them. But they were not attacking, they were simply watching, listening to Clary with rapt attention as she lifted a sinister chalice into the air and proclaimed it to hold the blood of her Mother.

"I and those who stand behind me have not only chosen to give you a chance at life, but a chance at betterment. You are strong as you are, as abused tools of an Angel who cares nothing for you. But Lilith has agreed, by having freely given her blood to us, her children, to bless you who would follow us with even greater strength, agility, swiftness. We repay those who are loyal to us, we pay them in power. _Real _power. Who would have it?"

But before anyone could speak, or by the look of some faces accept, someone interrupted the proceedings. "The Angel's children will never bow to demons."

The crowd parted for him, but Isabelle knew without having to see him that it was Alec's voice. Her mind nearly went blank with fear, what was he doing here?

"Alexander," Clary said delightedly. "Lovely of you to join us."

"I'm not here to join you," Alec spit, and looked pointedly around the room as he said his next words. "And I'm frankly disgusted with everyone who is."

Only a few bothered to look ashamed.

"I never pegged you to be quite so judgmental, Alec," Clary said. There was a distinct laugh in her voice, and Isabelle longed to squander it.

Alec's posture was stiff, his jaw set. The last time Isabelle had seen him, he had acted like he understood why she was going alone, there was no reason for them both to die. And yet there he was.

"Only to those who deserve judgement."

"If not to join in the fun, why come?" She asked, underneath all the attitude she seemed almost genuinely curious. At least that much Isabelle understood.

"Where have you taken my brother?" Alec demanded by way of reply, apparently finished with playing games.

Isabelle's world tilted onto its side. Max.

Clary tipped her head back and laughed. "Why would I have him?" She asked at last.

Isabelle couldn't tell if Clary was simply humoring him, attempting to get an even greater rise, or if she really did take Max. Isabelle hoped against all odds that it was the former, but she didn't completely trust her luck.

"That's what I'd like to know."

"You really are a fool aren't you? Let's say I did have your baby brother, did you think I'd just hand him over and let you be on your merry way?"

Alec remained completely still, face like stone while Clary toyed with him.

"Or maybe you were hoping that your boyfriend would find him and sneak away without getting caught?" She said sweetly, and the blood drained from Alec's face.

Sebastian, who had been conspicuously absent since Isabelle arrived, appeared from the left at those words, Magnus Bane in his grip. The cat-eyed warlock looked at Alec apologetically, his hands trapped behind his back. He could always perform magic, Isabelle knew, but then Sebastian could likely snap his neck just as quickly. And then Alec would doubtless be killed.

Alec put both hands up, palms facing Clary in surrender, his attention fixed on Magnus. The warlock stood still, his eyes surveying the room. Eventually his gaze landed on Isabelle, and his eyes widened just a fraction. He quickly looked away, seemingly unnoticed.

"Don't hurt him," Alec said, desperation leaking into his voice.

"Hm," Clary said, pretending to deliberate. "I'll do you one better. The deal of a lifetime, even."

"Anything," Alec breathed, out of options.

"Come here then. You're going to help me with a little demonstration, for the masses." She flashed a smile at her onlookers, and a rumbling of voices went through the crowd.

Isabelle watched, inching closer despite knowing that if she attempted to intervene she would give away the element of surprise, which was her only advantage. It would only be a waste, there was no way to stop what was about to happen. But, she realized, there was a way to use it. Clary thought she was winning, and so was completely distracted.

Isabelle chanced a glance over at Magnus. The warlock seemed to sense her gaze, as he looked right at her, silently begging with his eyes for her to do something, anything to save Alec. But no matter how it broke her heart, she couldn't, not anymore than he could.

Sebastian's eyes were intently focused on his sister, all his strength being used to keep Magnus in place. It was a small chance, but it was the only one she'd get. Slowly, she slid a Dagger out of her right boot, and placed it at Sebastian Morgenstern's throat.

The demon boy released a breath, the only indication of his surprise, and released Magnus's hands in order to grab at Isabelle's arm. She hastily pressed the Dagger into his skin as a warning, and he hissed in pain, his hands stilling and dropping to his sides in shock.

Someone in the crowd must have noticed, because there was a collective gasp, and at last Clary looked up. The victory slowly drained from her eyes, even as Alec coughed, becoming whatever new monster he might be, in front of everyone.

Isabelle had no idea how her life had all come down to a moment like this. Sebastian Morgenstern did not so much as breathe, his form absolutely still. She now had one hand locked in his thick, white hair, the other holding the Dagger against the skin of his throat. His sister was standing only fifteen short feet away, her face pale as a sheet, eyes wide open and swirling with something that was far too intense even to be called fury. Her right foot was slightly in front of the other one, but she was paused misstep by the hiss of pain Sebastian had made when Isabelle had nicked his throat. The afflicted skin had immediately sizzled and blackened, revealing that the Dagger she gripped was no ordinary weapon. She knew Clary had made the calculations just as she had. The demon twins could move blindingly fast, possibly three times as fast as Isabelle herself could. But it would take only milliseconds to swipe her blade across Sebastian's throat. _How fast are you, Clary? _She asked with her eyes. _Fast enough? Would you risk finding out?_

"If you kill him, I will -"

But Isabelle didn't let her finish that predictable threat. "You'll what?" She asked. "Torture me? Kill me? Make me beg for death? You're already going to do that, no matter what happens now. So what have I got to lose?"

Clary's breaths seemed overly mechanical, it was obvious her mind was going a mile a minute. Isabelle knew the feeling.

"Then why are you stalling?" She bit out, as though she couldn't believe she was being made to ask such a question.

Isabelle could only blink at her. Logically, Isabelle knew several things. She knew that no matter what happened now, she was as good as dead. All three of them were essentially stuck. If Sebastian moved, he died. If Clary moved, Sebastian died. But as soon as Isabelle moved, whether it to be to kill Sebastian or to reach for the other Dagger in her left boot, she would die shortly thereafter. She could not risk losing focus. Not even Magnus could help her, as he'd remained free for only seconds before several onlookers had taken it upon themselves to prove their new loyalty, quickly overwhelming and then incapacitating him. It was a small blessing that he was even still breathing, but he was down for the count. And so she knew that she should kill Sebastian, and then hope that she'd proven enough of a thorn so that Clary would want to get her death over with. She knew that that was the best outcome she could hope for.

But it wasn't enough. Perhaps it was for the world, perhaps those who still preferred righteousness might be able to finish the job somehow once Isabelle had done her part. But it wasn't enough for her.

Because Isabelle, in her heart, did not come here to kill Sebastian. She came for Clary. It was always about Clary.

"This was never about him," she finally replied. But she tightened her hold on Sebastian further even as she said the words. The white-haired boy pressed against her harder, his neck extended as far back as it would go.

And then Clary smiled, her stance relaxing, eyes sweeping the onlookers as her confidence returned. Isabelle's heart sank as she realized her mistake.

"I'll still kill him," she clarified. But the damage was done.

"I don't think you will."

"Are you saying you're willing to sacrifice yourself to save him?" Isabelle inquired, faking a confidence she didn't feel. How was it that she had the weapon and Clary had somehow taken the upper hand anyway? She didn't really want an answer to either question, the spoken or the private one, but she knew she would get them anyway.

"On the contrary. Maybe you heard I actually had a surprise for you, for when you arrived? Shame you slipped in unnoticed." She paused to give a mocking pout. "Now that we are, ah, negotiating," a few snickers went through the audience at that, "I think it's time I ask Alderwood to bring the boy to me."

Isabelle thought she'd never felt true fear, never this kind. The Consul's eyes betrayed his sympathy, and his shame, as he walked towards Clary with a struggling Max latched in his grip. Alec had been right, but of course he'd been. Max kicked and scratched at the man who held him, being practically dragged along by his arm alone, his legs completely uncooperative. Isabelle noted vaguely, her own breath caught in her throat, that no one in the audience was snickering now.

She pricked Sebastian's throat again, and the demon boy hissed as more of his skin died. Clary shot her an annoyed look, and snatched Isabelle's little brother from the Consul. The chalice, which she'd been holding since she'd used it on Alec, was pressed to Max's unwilling lips.

"I will kill him," Isabelle warned, her voice breaking. She'd hoped so intensely that Alec had been wrong, that at the very least Max was somewhere far away.

"And then little Max here will be just like me. Maybe I'll have him kill you," Clary mused in return. "Or maybe Alec will do it?" She looked over at Alec as she said this. He'd since recovered physically, standing just a few feet away. But Isabelle knew, could simply tell, that he wasn't her brother anymore. As if to confirm it, he nodded mutely, as though killing Isabelle were not even a question.

Max's eyes were wide, tears tracking down his face as he panted and struggled in Clary's grasp, attempting to keep his mouth as tightly shut as possible.

"Why?" She finally asked brokenly, though she didn't dare loosen her grip on Sebastian. "You were already going to win, why bring him into this? He's just a child!"

"Because _you took someone from me," _Clary stressed each word separately, as though to leave nothing to interpretation.

"Simon died because of you!" Isabelle screeched. "You destroyed who he was long before I showed him mercy!"

Clary bore her teeth, a growl escaping her throat. She looked completely feral. "Mercy?" She spit. "He loved you and you murdered him."

"He didn't love me," she cried. "He couldn't love me. Not when he loved you."

"You killed him out of _jealousy_ then?" Clary demanded incredulously.

"No! I loved him! But you - you're scum, demon filth. A liar and a murderer and the Angel knows what else. And for him to love you anyway was a sickness. He was sick because you made him that way, and I did what I had to do."

It was silent for several long moments, such that Isabelle could hear the breaths of everyone in the room. Until, finally, Clary spoke. "Then I do hope you were prepared to pay for it."

The world seemed to stall, every movement happening in slow motion as Clary gripped Max's chin in one hand and forced his mouth open. Her other hand tipping the contents of the chalice. And in the same moment, rational thought abandoned Isabelle. She knew only that she had to stop it, that she had to save Max at whatever cost. So Isabelle watched her own body, as though she were somewhere far outside of it, perform possibly the most desperate thing any human being had ever done. She released her hold on Sebastian, kicking him down and away from her with her leg, and simultaneously tossing the Dagger in her grip through the air, sailing straight and true toward Clary's throat.

Clary's eyes widened, and she did not react in time with that impossible speed of hers. Likely the idiocy of what Isabelle had done caught even her off guard, because she did not simply side-step the blade as she doubtless could have.

And still, the Dagger did not meet its mark. Because Alec, whether it was due to the infernal blood that now ran through him, or because he believed Clary would have attempted to use Max as a shield, had jumped between the Dagger and Clary. And the hilt now protruded from his chest.

As if in a dream, Isabelle watched her brother turn to ash, and the Dagger clanged against the floor.

_Alec Lightwood was on the ground, and everything was bright. Jace stood above him, and Alec thought there was never a more beautiful sight. His parabatai was smiling, teeth white and gleaming. His hair was a golden halo above him, his eyes like the sun. And Alec could not believe that he had ever thought his hallucinations were even close to genuine. They were a grainy copy, if that. Here, above him, was Jace. Jace as he was in life. Beautiful and strong and a light in his eyes._

_"None of that," Jace said when he saw his tears, and he broke further at the true sound of his voice. Jace extended his hand. "Come on, brother. You'll love to see this."_

_So Alec took his parabatai's hand, and was lifted up into the brightness._

The sound of the Dagger hitting the floor reverberated through the room. Max stood shock still, his eyes on the weapon that had just taken his brother's life. His sister was sobbing, crying out for Alec. When Max had seen her cry, in the weeks leading up to this moment, it had never been like this. It had been silent tears and a hitch in her breathing. Little did he know that she'd been keeping it together all those times, because _this_ was what falling apart sounded like.

Isabelle cried, but Max could only stare. He thought of every person who had left him behind. His father had died, but that blow had been lessened because he'd never actually been confirmed dead. And so Max had learned to cope with it, had even learned to cope with his mother being responsible when the truth had come out. It was an awful thing, but it had later made her death easier to accept.

When he was told Jace had died too, well, Max hadn't known what to think. Jace was Jace, he had seemed so invincible when Max was growing up. Had been on top of the world in Max's eyes. Everything he'd thought he'd wanted to be. So he'd avoided it, no matter how many people had insisted that he needed to grieve, he'd simply refused to break like his older siblings were breaking.

Isabelle and Alec had promised him. They'd promised him that no one else was going to die, that no one else was going to leave him. They'd lied. Max's hands clenched into fists at the thought. He was so tired, tired of all of it. He just wanted it to be over.

"Clary," he said.

The red haired girl snapped her head towards him in surprise. He looked at her, wordlessly reaching for the Cup in her hands, the Cup he'd been so terrified of just moments before. But why should it terrify him now? What was there left to be afraid of? Max wasn't a stupid kid, he knew better than to think Izzy was leaving this place alive, or that he could do anything to change that. Why should he be left to bear all of it alone?

Clary raised an eyebrow, openly curious, but placed the Cup in his grasp anyway. Max stared at the black blood on the rim of it for only a moment, took a deep breath, and brought it to his lips. He heard Isabelle shout, but it was too late. This decision was all his own.

Immediately Max felt that he'd caught on fire, his blood suddenly scorching through his veins. For what could have been a second or an eternity, everything was dark.

And then the world seemed to explode into being around him. He came to realize that he was on his knees, the stone beneath him colder than he had before noticed. The collective breathing of everyone in the room seemed far louder now. He tried to get his bearings, but Isabelle's screams were disorienting.

"Shut up," he growled at her.

Her eyes widened, filling with heartbreak and pity. "Oh, Max," she sobbed, her voice breaking.

_How annoying_, he thought, rolling his eyes. Had he ever looked up to this girl? He could no longer imagine what he'd ever found admirable about her. It seemed all she was capable of was crying.

Clary bent down next to him, her head tilted slightly to the side. "Maxwell?" She inquired.

He grimaced. "Do I have to keep that name?"

Her answering smile was brilliant, lovely. She laughed, and it delighted him that he'd pleased her. That was what he wanted, he realized, to make her proud. As a boy, he knew he'd wanted to make his parents proud, but that was nothing in comparison to this. Clary was not his mother, she was far better, and he knew that she would never leave him.

"Not at all, not if you'd like something new?"

"My- Maryse and Robert named me that. What would you call me?" He asked.

Clary deliberated for a moment, looking over at where Isabelle was collapsed on the ground with renewed interest. Finally, she returned her gaze to him.

"You wish to shed your name, Maxwell?"

He nodded in confirmation.

"In that case, you have to do something for me." She glanced over at her brother. "For us."

"Of course," he promised. He would do anything for Clary, for she and Sebastian both.

"Kill her," Clary said.

He stood up without hesitation. Isabelle was a problem after all. She'd held a Dagger to Sebastian's throat, tried to kill Clary just minutes ago. She couldn't be allowed to live after such crimes.

Isabelle watched him with her wide, doe eyes as he made his way over to her. Sebastian looked on silently, but he was clearly pleased by him. That was more than all the motivation he needed.

"Max," Isabelle rasped. Her fear was exasperating. Hadn't she come here with the knowledge of her death? There was no logical reason for her surprise. She gazed over his shoulder, likely looking at Clary. "Please," she begged. "Just kill me yourself!"

"Don't worry, Isabelle," Clary replied evenly. "I'll look after him like my own."

Max placed his hands on either side of Isabelle's face, and finally silenced her cries with a quick snap.

Clary had never wanted a child. The day Sebastian had told her that she could not conceive, she'd been glad of it. She would have never been able to tolerate a pregnancy, much less a newborn baby. But this young Lightwood before her was not a newborn. In five short minutes, he'd already proven himself stronger than all those of his blood. She could picture herself and her brother raising this boy as a prince, placing upon him the Morgenstern name. There was something about it that spoke to Clary as truly _right_.

She walked to the boy with confidence, placing her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, the question of whether or not he'd pleased her clear in his eyes. She nodded, and he smiled in a self-satisfied way befitting of a Morgenstern. When she spoke, she spoke so that everyone in the audience before them could hear her.

"I will call you Thanatos," she said, "and you will be known as our son. Prince of this new world."

She looked at Sebastian, and he smiled widely at her with approval. For a heartbeat, it was dead silent.

It started with a single clap, but soon nearly everyone present was applauding. Whatever reason they had for doing so didn't matter to her. She had won.

One by one, volunteers stepped up and drank from the Infernal Cup, joining her in eternity as her loyal warriors. Clary quietly made her way to the Dagger that had killed Alec Lightwood, picking it up carefully by the hilt and tucking it away. She would later have it melted down, completely destroyed. She smiled as she rejoined her brother and her son on the Dias, knowing that from this day onward she would live as the Queen she'd been born to become.

A short while into the proceedings, Bane stirred from his forced slumber, and Clary ordered those who'd already been changed to take him away. He'd once caged Simon, and Clary would not soon forget it. Magnus Bane would serve the Morgensterns forever, she decided. She had loyal warlocks at her disposal who would be all too willing to leash him.

No one disturbed the corpse of Isabelle Lightwood. Her body should rot here forever, Clary thought. Simon was still a weight on her heart, but he had, at the very least, been avenged.

Later that night Clary, Sebastian, and Thanatos marched with their army onto the Brocelind Plain, and at last took Alicante for their own.

A weight seemed to rest on Tessa Gray's soul as she looked around the sacred stone site. It was quiet enough that each of her soft steps sounded through the space. It had been deserted for many hours, the stench of decay already settled in the air. If Tessa closed her eyes, she could imagine so clearly what had taken place here. Many lives had been lost in different ways, and there would be no undoing the damage that had been caused both here and in Idris.

Tessa had already begun hiding away survivors, whether they were Nephilim or not, but most were fractured or broken entirely, in body or in mind. They had no hope, and Tessa felt deeply for them. She and loss were well acquainted, but she knew of something the others did not.

Finally, Tessa stood over the reason she had come: the mangled body of Isabelle Lightwood. The girl's neck was left at a grotesque angle, her brown eyes had been glossed over, still staring blankly at some point beyond.

With a heavy heart, Tessa Gray knelt down and closed the shadowhunter girl's eyes.

_"Ave Atque Vale, _Isabelle Lightwood," she whispered, though the words still echoed off the walls.

Silently Tessa searched, her hand finally closing around the Dagger in Isabelle's left boot. Tessa vowed silently to the girl she had never gotten to meet in life that the world would someday be set right again, hoping even against all she had seen that it was the truth.


	87. Chapter 87

Epilogue

**Year 2457**

The vampire seemed to be attempting to drink the blood with his nose alone, and Amethyst Blackthorn masked her nervousness behind her usual air of impatience.

"Never get tired of the smell of Nephilim blood," he told her, smirking.

"There're no more true Nephilim," she told him reflexively.

"And yet you keep gettin' the blood from somewhere."

"Yeah, about that," she paused, biting her lip. "Next time might take me a little longer than the usual week."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not sure the boss will like that," he threatened, none too subtle.

She took even breaths, trying to force her heart to remain calm. If she let him know she was worried, this might become a much different conversation. "My source, uh, they won't be out this week. Because of the weddin', it's - it ain't safe," she explained.

"It's never safe for Nephilim."

"I told you Nephilim don't exist no more, alright. W- they're just people in hidin'. No one's gonna risk comin' out this week."

Amethyst had dealt with Tyson and his clan every week for the last three years. She knew that as far as vampires went, they were as decent as you could hope to get. Vamps who wanted Nephilim blood tended to just go out hunting in the underground, unearthing whatever Gray Refuges they could find, and there weren't many left. But the LA clan had class, and so let struggling people like Amethyst come to them, and paid fairly for it too. Still, being above for any length of time was a risk not taken lightly, and it still made her edgy each and every time. And she, because her _source_ was of course her, couldn't brave it this week. It was legend that the day the King and Queen married was the bloodiest day since Isabelle Shadowhunter herself had died in the Battle of Idris. Thanatos's marriage would signal _celebratory_ hunting parties the likes of which she'd prayed she'd never see. There was no way she could leave the Refuge.

Tyson examined her for a long moment, as if debating what his boss would do. Amethyst shifted slightly under the scrutiny.

"She'll understand," she insisted cautiously.

"Oh, alright," said Tyson. "You get two weeks this time. But don't think this will become a regular thing."

She thanked him with relish, hastily taking the payment and dashing out.

"Soul of Isabelle," Samuel breathed when she returned. "You're crazy for stickin' your neck out today."

"Gotta eat somehow, Sam. No point of a Refuge if we all starve." Amethyst was tired, wanting to just head to her room and lay down next to Onyx. She could use a good long nap.

"Lady Gray won't let her people starve," Samuel retorted instantly.

Her long, anxiety-filled day came crashing down on her, and she couldn't stop the words that came tumbling out. "Lady Gray ain't been seen in half a century! She's dead, you're a fool if you don't believe it!"

Samuel's cheeks reddened up immediately. "How would you know?" He yelled back. "You don't have no proof more than I do!"

"Yeah well all you've got is bedtime stories!" She snapped.

"Both of you hush up!" Mama Carstairs came around the corner, her brown eyes flashing with exasperation. She wasn't really anyone's mama, her only boy was caught and Turned years ago, like many are. But she was mama to everyone at the Refuge, since she was the oldest and living parents were scarce, so when she spoke you shut up and listened. "Gonna call every demon and downworlder rat right to us with all your yellin'!"

Amethyst knew that was an exaggeration, but she flinched anyway.

"Mama, she said-" Samuel began, but was cut off.

"I heard what she said, and I'll not have you spreadin' that negativity down here girl. We got enough of it, understand?"

Amethyst nodded mutely, only shooting Samuel a glare after Mama had turned away.

As always, her little sister was waiting in their chambers when she entered.

"Hey kid," she said.

"Heard you and Sammy shoutin'," Onyx said by way of greeting.

Amethyst sigh, coming over to sit next to her on their little cot. "I'm sorry about that, I'm just grouchy is all. But I brought you somethin'"

Onyx quirked one small eyebrow, waiting. When she saw the roll of bread, her whole face lit up. Really, Amethyst would have to do her best to make this supply last for the next two weeks. Onyx was looking a little too thin for her liking.

"Heard the Prince is gettin' married," Onyx said between bites.

Amethyst grimaced. She hated talking about the royal family, especially Thanatos. It wasn't that he was worse than his parents, though that was debated frequently, it was that Onyx seemed to have some sort of fixation on him. She couldn't count how many times she'd looked up at this very ceiling as Onyx prattled on about how pretty he was in all the pictures, how interesting his grey eyes were, how maybe he wasn't as bad as the King and Queen. It seemed common among girls her age, or maybe that was only because she was one of two twelve year olds at the Refuge, and the other - Lisa - was rumored to have been overheard saying that maybe the Prince was worth Turning for. Amethyst shuddered at the thought of her little sister saying anything like that, or what she would say back if she ever did.

"He is. Was announced yesterday, apparently."

"Mama was sayin' how we all gotta lay real low next few weeks, since the faeries are gonna be all riled up. Partyin', lookin' for us... why would the Prince marry a faerie?"

Onyx sniffed, and Amethyst realized that she was jealous. Great, she thought, stifling a groan.

"You know what the stories say, the Morgensterns and the Fair Folk been close since before they took over. Probably the Prince spent a lot of time with them over the years."

"Ain't fair," Onyx mumbled.

Amethyst lay next to her sister, stroking her beautiful black hair and cursing the legendary Isabelle Shadowhunter for failing, the Lady Gray for disappearing, and the whole damn world for not being fair.

* * *

**Last AN: Here we are at the finish line. It's been a long time coming, I've come a long way since I started this, and I almost can't believe it's really over. I hope the majority of you were happy, or at least okay with it - though I know I can't please everyone. No matter what, I did what I set out to do: wrote a Clabastian fic that actually ends well for Clabastian shippers (imagine that!) Whatever else I write in my life, this will always be the first.**

**HUGE THANKS TO ALL, specifically though:**

• **Yuki Kamea**

• **Alexis T. Swan**

• **Elchabon**

• **The-Baby-Winchester**

• **totally-anonymous-person**

• **angelicpower**

• **LucindasEveningLight**

• **Nicole33075**

• **booklover212**

• **Luna Ravenwood84**

• **Madi Winchester**

• **Parthena C**

**And to everyone else I didn't name, including all the Guests that said nice or really passionate things. All of you really kept me going when I wanted to just click delete and walk away. I can't thank you enough.**

**If you read this after it was marked complete, feel more than free to still leave comments and everything if you wish. You read it at its best lol, ask any of those above if you don't believe me.**

**This story is dedicated to H, who is the reason I started writing in general many years ago. You're the world to me, love!**


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